Rebellion
by Angel Baby1
Summary: When the most secret and crushing aspects of a hidden past return in full horror, when everyone is demanding a truth that you are too shamed and afraid to give, to save the ones you love, what choice is left but to rebel?
1. Part One: Lost and Found

AN: Well…some of you might remember me from "Bittersweet." This isn't specifically from that universe, though I suppose it works. Actually, I should say _that_ isn't from _this universe because, in all honesty, this was written years ago. And I mean that literally. So excuse the difference in writing styles; I've grown since then. If you like, let me know. The whole thing's written, to the last letter, I just need positive "Go for it!"s and I'll post the rest ASAP. …Mmmyup. G'wan, read away. _

Standard Disclaimer: Not mine, though I DID buy the "movie" off e-bay. Interesting watch, that. Has anyone else noticed that MD:TAS has more going for it in the arena of potential than in actual plots? I mean, they had all this raw material just sitting in their laps and did NOTHING. More fun for us, though, yeah? 

Not-Standard Disclaimer (Or: The Idiot's Disclaimer): I'm not a skater. I don't skate. I owned rollerblades at one point, but I spent more time on my butt than actually skating. Eventually I'll be using skater-terms, such as the names of moves and such. All knowledge has been taken from a web-page and my little sister's Tony Hawk PS2 game. Sad, isn't it? But I'm a hybrid of a prep and a nerd, so…yeah. Please don't shoot me.

Part One: Lost and Found 

Welcome to Your Nightmare

The Saurian Overlord Dragonius growled primally, flame licking from his nostrils as he crushed the neck-segment of a hunter drone. 

Chameleon shrunk nervously behind Siege and Wraith, who didn't show their fear as easily as he did.

"Two years," Dragonius snarled, clawed hands behind his back as he paced over the remains of ten or twelve crushed machines. "We have been vying for this miserable speck of a planet for over two years now. Why?" When there was no immediate answer he rounded on the other three Saurians and roared, "_Why?"_

"The ducks, my lord," Wraith mumbled, clutching his staff. 

"Yes," the Overlord hissed, "exactly. Those wretched mallards have ruined plan after plan, and we remain helpless against them and that blasted Mask. You have failed at every attempt to capture or kill them, bumbling and falling over yourselves in your desire to _disappoint_ me. What shall we do about that?"

"Um…try, try again?" Chameleon suggested.

Wraith ignored the small lizard and began hesitantly, "My lord…"

"_What?"_ Dragonius snapped. 

"Perhaps…with the gateway…"

"Spit it _out_, old fool."

Wraith bowed over his staff a bit more, eyes narrowed and lowered, "My lord, we might attempt to pull help through the Gateway."

"And how would we get in _contact_ with that help and let them know our plan?"

"There is a spell…"

"I'm _telling_ you, Dive, these guys are _awesome."_

Nosedive trailed behind Thrash and Mookie, looking uncertain. "I dunno, Mook…Inline skating was considered a sign of juvenile delinquency back on Puckworld. I'm not sure my bro'd really want me _here_."

"Come _on,"_ Thrash protested, pushing the teenage alien from behind. "Skaters aren't juvies. They just like to catch some air."

"How?"

"Just…come _on._ Mookie and me've got a bud at this competition and you don't have any world-saving duty, so why don't you just chill and enjoy? We'll intro you guys once he's done, okay?"

"Fine," Nosedive sighed, "_fine._ Just don't tell Wing, all right?"

"Nosedive," Mookie began, looking skeptically back at him, "your brother doesn't even talk to us unless, like, the world's about to end. I don't think there's any chance of him asking us about what you, like, did today."

"Totally," Thrash agreed. 

They broke through the crowd and Nosedive got his first exposure to Earth inline skating. Teenagers were everywhere, on skateboards and roller blades, doing a myriad of tricks that sent them skyward. Only very occasionally did anyone actually fall. Nosedive was almost instantly enchanted with this new form of skating.

What had he been _missing_ all these years?

Thrash and Mookie laughed at the look on his face.

"I bet you could learn how to do this in, like, no time, Dive-dude," Thrash commented lightly.

"You _think?"_ Dive grinned suddenly. "I believe I've just discovered another way to give Wing a heart attack."

"It's starting!" Mookie cheered. "Look, Justin's, like, up first!"

Nosedive watched the competition through a haze of longing amazement. Soon, he swore, he was going to be good like that. He already knew a few fundamentals because of all the tough situations he'd put himself into on Puckworld when irritating bigger, slower ducks. Definitely the street course looked like something he'd done before, with a few tricks thrown in. Who could have imagined all those years he spent running away in style had really been a type of simplified inline skating? 

Thrash and Mookie clapped and yelled when the winners were announced. Once he'd gotten his medal, the grinning first place winner spotted them and made his way forward through the crowd. He was lanky, about as tall as Nosedive, not overly buff but well toned, with sandy blond hair and gray eyes.

"Thrash-man!" he called in greeting as he closed the distance between them, "Mookie! Long time no see. Where've you two been?"

"Working," Mookie sighed. "We've been running Captain Comics practically by ourselves for a while. Thrash might as well be the manager. Luckily they hired a new guy last week and we got today off."

"We've been helping to save the world, too," Thrash boasted, grinning and slapping the skater's offered hand. 

            "Right," the skater chuckled.

            "Serious!" Thrash promised. "We've been helping aliens from another dimension that are here to stop a terrible warlord from taking over our planet! Right, Mookie?"

            "Like, for sure," she agreed.

            The skater laughed. "Sounds like fun! I wanna meet the aliens!"

            "Sure," Thrash agreed easily and pointed behind him.

            Nosedive grinned at the skater's shocked expression. "Nice skating," he complimented, holding out his hand.

            The skater clasped the offered hand unflinchingly, grinning in return once more. "Awesome," he laughed. "An alien!"

            "An alien that can skate," Mookie added helpfully.

            Nosedive smiled in embarrassment when the skater arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you watch hockey?" the alien teen asked with a rueful shrug. 

            Obviously he did. After a moment, the pieces fell into place for him with an almost audible click. He pointed at Nosedive, exclaiming, "Dude! Dude, you're one of the Mighty Ducks! Number 33! You're in the _NHL!_"

            "Yeah," Nosedive laughed, "kinda."

            "Kinda? Dude, you totally rule the ice!"

            "I have help."

            Nosedive looked so totally uncomfortable talking about his talent that Mookie took pity on him and changed the subject. "Anyway, we haven't, like, introduced you two yet," she said to them. "Nosedive Frostfeather, meet Justin Pond. Justin, Nosedive."

            "Hi," they chorused.

            "Yeah, I'm Thrash, that's Mookie. Justin, Dive was just saying that he'd like to give his ultra-overprotective older brother a heart attack. He thought you might be able to help."

            Justin arched an eyebrow at Nosedive once more. "I love causing trouble. What do you need?"

            The duck pointed at the half-pipe. "Can you teach me how to do that? What you just did?"

            "Depends," the skater responded with a shrug. "How serious are you about it?"

            "As serious as I need to be."

            "Well." A shared and wicked grin. "When do you want to start?"

            Wraith stood before the gateway generator, mentally running over his spell once more. Dragonius growled for him to hurry up and he sighed very slightly. If only the Saurian overlord had let him explain his plan further, perhaps he wouldn't have been so hasty in his decision.

            Ah well. Overlords will do what overlords will do.

            Siege opened a gateway at a small motion from the dark sorcerer and stood back. 

            The shouted words of the spell ricocheted around the Raptor, echoing in the minds of all those gathered.

            On the other side of the portal, a creature listened to promises whispered on the wind, promises for an opportunity to reclaim a lost possession, promises to be free of prison, promises for revenge and conquest.

            The creature smiled and reached toward the promises, tumbling into unconsciousness and an alien world at the same time.

            A second creature caught the backlash of the summons and, once through the gateway, separated to crash-land in an area not too far away.

            Dragonius stared down at the being magic and science had laid unconscious at his feet. He glared at his summoner. "Is this a _joke?"_ he growled, and pointed at the creature. "This is a _duck!_ Put it back. _Right now._ The last thing I need on this miserable planet is another of these blasted creatures. Put it back or kill it."

            The duck moaned and sat up. His eyes landed on Dragonius and he started. "That's odd," he commented, looking around, "I thought all the Saurian Overlords had been captured and sent back to dimensional limbo."

            "Are you afraid, duck?" Siege demanded, stepping forward with one fist brandished. 

            "No, of course not."

            "Why not?" Chameleon sounded disappointed. "Aren't we terrifying any more?"

            "Oh, I'm sure you would be," the duck shrugged, "to someone who had reason to be afraid of you."

            Dragonius narrowed his eyes at the duck. "Why don't _you_ think you have any reason to be afraid?"

            "Two reasons." He held up a finger. "One: You called me here. If you wanted to kill something, you wouldn't have bothered to call me from Puckworld." A second finger. "Two: I was in jail serving twenty-five additional life sentences for being on your side. Believe me, I'm an ally. "

            Wraith bowed his head slightly in agreement when Dragonius looked at him skeptically. "The spell was cast to call forth the one who would be the most useful, my lord."

            "What is your name?" Dragonius demanded. "What do you want here so badly that the spell called you?"

            The duck stood and faced the Saurian overlord, smirking cruelly. "The name's Dryden. Just Dryden, because my family disowned me before I killed them. And I want my property back."

            Chameleon, Siege and Wraith traded a look and a mutual thought.

            This duck was no good.

            Nosedive turned a sharp corner, grabbing the door handle to help propel him into the Pond. No one was practicing, but that was to be expected. They'd had their team practice early, early in the morning, long before he'd gone out with Thrash and Mookie. Duke and Mallory were probably training, Grin was most likely meditating, and Wildwing was helping Tanya fix the Duckcycle he'd totaled during their last skirmish with the Saurians. He entered the underground section of the Pond and skated leisurely toward where his brother was most likely to be. 

            To his surprise, everyone (even Phil) was gathered in the Ready Room, clustered around Drake One anxiously. 

            "Hey, guys!" he called, gliding up and peering over Duke's shoulders. "What's everyone looking at?"

            Wildwing whirled around. "Nosedive!" he exclaimed and wrapped him in a tight, swift hug. Then he held the bewildered teen at arms length and glared fiercely at him. "Where have you _been?"_ he demanded, the Mask somehow portraying his anger perfectly. 

            "Out with Thrash and Mookie. Why?"

            "Why? _Why?_ Nosedive, it's past ten! _Way_ past ten! You left at nine _A.M._ and haven't even called _once!"_

            "Geez, sorry, Wing," the teen apologized, backing away from his brother slightly. "If you were worried, why didn't you buzz me? I had my com on."

            "Oh _did_ you?" Mallory challenged, picking something up off Drake One's consol and showing it to him. "This look familiar?"

            Nosedive took his com unit and slipped it on, grinning sheepishly. "Oops. Sorry, bro, it won't happen again. I was just meeting this really cool guy and he-"

            "Whoa, whoa, you think that's it?" Wildwing interrupted, frowning. "We've all been looking for you since _nine._ That's almost two hours, Dive. Sorry isn't going to cut it."

            Nosedive frowned back, crossing his arms. "What do you want from me, then?"

            The others, sensing an impending Brothers' Argument, turned to make a strategic exit. 

            Wildwing opened his mouth to respond.

            At that exact moment Drake One sounded. Tanya quickly pulled up a map that showed two red flashing dots. Though one disappeared almost instantly, the closer of the two remained strong and steady and, best of all, motionless.

            "Teleportation energy!" Tanya exclaimed.

            Wildwing pointed sternly at his little brother. "We're not done with this yet. As soon as we get back, we've got to think up some kind of punishment for you. Got it?"

            "Yes, sir," Nosedive assured only slightly sarcastically, skating from the room toward the Migrator. 

            "Let's go," Wildwing sighed, following the youngest member.

            "Ducks rock," Duke agreed, grinning. 

            "It's strange," Nosedive commented softly, peering around a tree with his puck launcher cocked. "There aren't any visible Saurians or hunter drones, which usually means it's an ambush. And yet…I just can't make myself think this is a trap."

            "It must be because we're in a park," Duke offered in a hushed voice, pushing aside the leaves of a bush to look for whatever had teleported. "It's a pity we can't get more specific with our target locations."

            "Isn't it though?" the teen agreed, pulling himself easily into the branches of a tree.

            "_You_ try building a supercomputer with primitive supplies and we'll see what _you_ come up with," Tanya remonstrated in a whisper. 

            Duke grinned at her. 

"I'm not saying Drake One isn't a sweet machine, Tanya," Nosedive assured, dropping from the tree in front of her. "I'm just asking if maybe it couldn't use a few finishing touches."

"Your tree was over there," Tanya began in a low, confused voice, pointing to a tree three plants away from where they were. "How'd you get into this one?"

"Talent," was the easy response.

"That and all the trees have entangled branches and Dive's been climbing since he was old enough to walk," Wildwing added, coming over. "Anyone find anything?"

"Nothing," the three whispered back. "How about you?"

"Same," Mallory sighed, coming up with Grin. "And why are we all whispering?"

"To keep the suspenseful atmosphere," Nosedive whispered back. "It's the way all great horror scenes are played out."

"Shut up." Mallory had a great weakness for very intense horror movies. For some unknown reason, she loved sitting in a theater and being terrified. 

"I mean, isn't it almost cliché? A group of semi-young quasi-teenagers and one genuine article creeping around the forest at-" he check his com- "ooh, midnight on the dot! Any moment now, some dark mysterious-but-oddly-evil figure will ooze from the foliage of a low bush and clutch at one of our ankles, pulling us to his hazy gray doom-world where we'll be sacrificed in a bazaar ritualistic ceremony to a quirky god that will eat the flesh from our bones and spin our dried blood into cotton candy."

The others stared at him.

"Are you joking?" Mallory demanded. 

Wildwing shook a finger at him. "No more comics and late night horror-marathons for you."

Nosedive grinned.

Then the hand reached out from the bushes, grabbed the youth's ankle and yanked, jerking the young duck's feet out from under him.

"Yee!" Nosedive cried, turning on his back to aim at whatever had his ankle. "Let go!"

The figure chuckled and stood, still holding his foot, until the teen was practically standing on his head. "That's what you get for being loud and distracted," it informed him in a tired, raspy voice.

Nosedive stared up at the figure. "Impossible," he breathed.

Wildwing froze for a moment as reality sunk in. Then he leapt forward with a joyous cry of, "_Canard!"_

Canard smiled, dropping the teen's ankle and letting him topple to the ground. "Hi, Wildwing."

Nosedive sat where he had been dropped a long time, watching the loud and excited reunion that was taking place a small distance away. Canard was back, after all this time. That meant things were about to change drastically, for better or worse.

"So what're you gonna do?"

Wildwing shrugged. "I don't see that there's anything I _can_ do, when you get right down to it. He's usually so good, and we're on an alien planet, for crying out loud. We can't exactly tell him he was naughty and send him home for the week."

Canard, sitting in the copilot's seat, considered.

Wildwing had told his newly found best friend about Nosedive's actions of earlier, not only because he needed to tell _someone_ but also because he thought Canard would have some ideas on how to handle it. Truthfully, he didn't know what to do with his little brother. This wasn't the first time he'd been out late and it wasn't the first time he'd forgotten his com, so obviously something just wasn't sinking in. They couldn't bench him from games, they couldn't send him _home_, they couldn't lock him in his room, so what was left?

Nosedive seemed to have forgotten the incident himself. He had willingly surrendered his seat to Canard when asked and was now sitting in the very back, listening to music on a portable CD player, his head bobbing in small rhythmic motions, gazing out the back window blindly as he let his mind wander. 

Canard, glancing back at him, shook his head. "I don't know, Wildwing. Maybe grounding would work."

"No…grounding is too cruel for him. There's no way he could sit inside that long, even if we _do_ have a pool and a game room and a hockey rink and-"

"He'd be grounded from all that, too," Canard pointed out, marveling inwardly at all the comforts his team had secured for themselves in such a short amount of time. How long had he been gone?

"See?" Wildwing continued, oblivious to Canard's amazement. "It's too much for him. He has to be able to move about. If we tried to lock him in we'd just be forcing him into a position where he'd have to choose between disobedience and insanity. He's a good kid. You know that. I don't want to _make_ him be bad."

"I always thought you were too soft on him," Canard sighed, "but that's not my choice. Okay, so if we can't ground him…what're we gonna do? We can't just let him off with a warning; that's not working."

"That's why I brought this whole thing up; I was hoping you had some…creative ideas. You know, other than grounding."

For a while they drove in silence, the hushed conversations and muted bass rhythm coming from behind them the only sound in the vehicle. Finally Canard asked, "When do you usually have team practice?"

"Six till eight."

"A.M.?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Here's my idea…"

Canard scrutinized the play, making sure every movement was totally, 100% perfect.

They had gotten better, especially Nosedive, which was a little surprising. The pipsqueak skated with a natural finesse and raw talent that blew Canard's mind. If only he could train that talent, he'd really be a force to be reckoned with. 

Nosedive cheered as another of his setups to Duke led to a goal. Just at that moment the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of their practice. Wildwing hung uncertainly between the goalposts a second before skating resolutely over to the player's box where Canard was standing. Nosedive was a little more enthusiastic, racing around the rink a few times to kill energy before joining the group. His brother thought idly that he'd wish he'd saved that energy in a few moments. 

"How'd we do, Canard?" the teen asked, seeming almost anxious for the final verdict. 

"Well…you've improved. _All_ of you," he added with a glance at the teen, who grinned back in thanks. "There's still room for even _more_ improvement, of course. There's always room for improvement. Plus, I've got a few plays I've been working on for a while."

Nosedive began to ask a question, hesitated, and stood looking uncertain until Canard told him to just spit it out and get it over with. "Well…I was wondering, is that what you did in dimensional limbo all this time? Work on hockey plays?"

Canard blinked at him. "All this time? What are you talking about?" He shot a glance at Wildwing, who seemed surprised. "How long have I been gone?"

"Two years," Mallory said when everyone else hesitated. 

"Really?" Now it was Canard who was surprised. "I guess that would explain the vast improvement in all of you and this rather large base of operation. You've been here two _years?"_

"Yeah," Nosedive agreed quickly. "Why, didn't it seem like you were in limbo a long time?"

"No. To me it was no time at all. One minute I'm jumping out of the Aerowing, the next I'm falling into a bush on what I've got to say is the _weirdest_ planet I've ever heard of."

"Wait till you meet Thrash and Mookie," Mallory muttered, turning away.

"Who?" Canard called after her.

"You'll find out soon enough," Tanya assured, skating off the ice after Mallory, Duke and Grin. 

"Don't you wanna find out who won the match?" Nosedive asked them.

"Naw." Duke gave the teen a crooked smile. "You, me 'n Wing took this one."

"He's right," Canard admitted when Nosedive looked to him. "By three points."

Nosedive whooped and began to skate away.

"Hold on a second, Dive!" Wildwing said, causing the teen to come back and look between the two older ducks in slight confusion. 

"What's up, Wing?"

"Well…um, actually…"

"You've gotta hang around a bit, Nosedive," Canard interrupted, taking over for Wildwing, who had always disliked seeing his baby brother punished in any way. 

"Why?" he asked, all innocence and trusting bewilderment.

Wildwing looked at Canard, petitioning one last time for Nosedive's sake.

Canard shook his head very slightly, and Wildwing knew he was right. Last night had been a third time offence; it was too dangerous to let the runt go unpunished. "Wing told me what you did yesterday."

Nosedive winced. "Yeah, I kinda thought he might. Look, Canard, I'm really sorry and I won't do it again. Okay?"

"Thanks for the apology, small fry, but it's like your brother told you last night. Sorry's not good enough. This is the third time you've been gone all day without your com unit. What if something happened to you or the team? We couldn't get a hold of you and you wouldn't be able to get a hold of _us_ and it'd be pandemonium. Sorry wouldn't help then."

"Yeah," the teen agreed miserably, "I know."

"So what do you think we should do as punishment?"

Nosedive's stomach sank. He wasn't _grounded?_ Not just when he was starting to get the basics of inline skating? How would he _survive?_

"Luckily," Canard continued, crossing his arms as Wildwing fidgeted in the background, "I was able to come up with a solution that doesn't involve you doing serious time in your room. Your brother seemed to think you wouldn't be able to handle it."

Nosedive sent a mental thank you to his brother as Wildwing shot the same to Canard. By labeling the idea as his own, the tan duck was keeping Wildwing exempt from any bitterness Nosedive might feel later.

"So…what're you gonna do?" the teen asked, unable to bare the not knowing any longer.

Canard smirked slightly, sitting on the player's bench. "_I'm_ not going to do anything. Neither is Wing. You can go now, by the way."

Wildwing smiled his gratefulness one last time and skated quickly away.

"Then what?" his brother asked.

"Get ready for the workout of your life."

Wildwing heard Nosedive sigh in resignation.

A full hour later, Wildwing slipped worriedly into the rink's arena. He was very nervous, afraid maybe Canard had pushed his tiny baby brother too hard. Nosedive was zipping around the rink's border, completing a lap and racing to finish another. 

Was he…he couldn't be _grinning?_ Canard was a taskmaster. He had been the captain of Wildwing's hockey team for as long as he could remember and pushed his players to their limits. Was he going easy on the duckling because he was younger? Somehow that didn't fit with the Canard Wildwing knew. 

The duck in question was sitting slumped on the player's bench, looking utterly defeated. 

"What's up?" Wildwing asked in concern, sitting by him.

"Your brother is nuts and this isn't working."

Wildwing blinked at him. "What are you talking about? Is he refusing to do what you tell him? Maybe I could talk to him."

"No." Nosedive whizzed by. "That's not what I mean."

"Then what are you _talking_ about? And why is he grinning? Are you going easy on him?"

"No." Another lap completed as a streak zipped past. "I'm not going easy on him. This may be one of the most intense practice sessions I've ever put a younger duck through in my life. And he's still going strong."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean." One more lap. "This method of punishment isn't going to work."

"Why?"

"I think he enjoys it."

"_What?"_

"Just exactly what I said. I think he enjoys practice and being pushed. These laps are his last assignment, you know."

The older brother shrugged, watching a tan blur flash by. "Maybe that's the explanation, then. He usually gets really energetic right before he finishes something."

"I think you're missing the point."

"What's the point?"

"I only told him to do thirty. He grumbled—looking back at it I think he was joking—and I upped it to fifty."

"So?"

"Wait for it." Nosedive passed again. "That was ninety-seven."

"_What?"_

"Exactly. That's why I think this isn't going to work as punishment. It was supposed to strain him, make him work and think and tire him out, give him a reason not to forget him com unit again. It's useless if he actually _enjoys_ it. It's like spanking a masochistic kid. It simply doesn't work."

Wildwing watched his brother skate by again. Ninety-eight. He was still grinning. "So what do we do next time?"

Canard sighed and shrugged. "I guess we have to hope there _isn't_ a next time and deal with that bridge if it comes."

The other duck nodded. "Works for me."

"Wildwing, what if, in the end, we're left with no option _other_ than grounding?"

Wildwing shrugged helplessly. Ninety-nine. "I don't know, Canard. I just think it'd be the totally wrong thing to do with him. I don't think he'd be able to stand it."

"Yeah, but…what if we don't have a choice?"

At that moment, halfway through his one hundredth lap, Nosedive did the unthinkable.

He tripped.

It was one of those moments you know instantly will be with you forever. He knew he'd always remember just exactly what he'd been doing when it happened.

He'd been skating. It was supposed to be a punishment, but how could skating ever be hard enough to be considered something like that? He had personally chosen to double his laps, just because he could and it was fun. Plus, Thrash, Mookie and Justin wouldn't be waiting for him at the half-pipe for another hour. That actually gave him some time to kill, and laps were one of his most favorite things to do.

It was strange that he was thinking of his friends when he first heard it. Friends were wonderful and irreplaceable and precious.

The voice was not.

Nosedive skated swiftly around the rink, feeling proud of himself for his speed and agility. 

Then he heard it, an echo from things that had been.

_You are worthless._

Oh, God, no. Not that voice. 

_You're lucky I took you, boy. No one else would have._

It chilled him to the bone instantly. Why, after all these years?

_You know what you are, don't you?_

His left foot missed its subtle cue to move as he pushed forward.

_You are mine._

The blades of his hockey skates tangled, sending him slamming onto the ice. He was too shocked to put his hands out and ended up landing hard on his right shoulder and sliding.

He heard, as though from a distance, two familiar voices cry, "Nosedive!"

What the hell was wrong with him?

He got up shakily, giving his brother and Canard a wavering smile. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "I let my mind wander. One too many laps, I guess."

"One too many…Dive, what are you _talking_ about? You've done a thousand laps before and not tripped!" Wildwing examined his shoulder through the uniform with worried, probing fingers, moving around the padding as necessary. "Nothing feels damaged. Does it hurt?"

"Not really," the teen admitted. "It was just a little…you know, shocking. I haven't tripped in forever. Goes to show you that cockiness really _will _end up being my downfall."

Canard frowned. "Are you sure that's all that happened?"

Nosedive had this one last chance to tell them what he had heard and what it meant. In the fear that they would think him insane, he plastered a smile on his face, ignored the dry, sick feeling in his throat, and replied, "Yeah, Canard. I'm sure." He finished his lap quickly but with no enthusiasm and skated from the rink.

"Where're you going?" Wildwing asked, still watching him with worry.

"To take a shower. I'm all sweaty. Then I'm gonna go meet Thrash and Mookie."

Wildwing's eyes narrowed. "Nosedive," he warned, but the younger duck only smiled reassuringly, holding up his arm. 

"See? I've got my wrist com on. I won't leave it again and I'll call you if I'm not in by nine."

"Eight," Wildwing corrected.

"But _Wing._ I might as well call before I leave! There's no _way_ I'll be back by eight!"

"Eight and every hour on the hour afterward or don't even bother leaving."

Nosedive sighed, defeated. "Fine, fine, I'll call, you chronic worrier, you."

Wildwing grinned. "So glad we understand each other. Now go and take your shower; you stink."

"Well, _duh_," Nosedive agreed, rolling his eyes as he switched his ice skates to roller blades and began gliding away. "I think I've already said that."

The older brother chuckled fondly as Dive disappeared under ground. 

"Strange kid," Canard commented, and Wildwing nodded.

"The absolute strangest." For a while they were silent. Then Wildwing rubbed his hands together in anticipation and grinned at his best friend. "So, you up for the grand tour now?"

Canard grinned back. "Definitely."

"Perfect. Okay, here we have the-"

"Wildwing! Boobala! Who's this new duck?"

The white duck groaned, shooting a look skyward. "Canard, Phil. Phil, Canard. Quick," he whispered urgently to his friend, "run while you can!"

"Why? Is that little fat thing a threat?"

"The worst!"

"Why?"

"He's our manager!"

"We have a _manager?"_

"Just run!"

The two dashed further into the Pond, leaving a very confused Phil holding several stacks of papers and wondering what had just happened to his new money-machine. 

Oh well. It wasn't that big a complex, after all. He'd find them eventually.

Justin applauded and cheered with Thrash and Mookie as Nosedive nailed his first totally perfect hand plant on the half-pipe. "Excellent!" he added as the alien teen completed another. "Do one more and come here!"

Nosedive did as he was told and skated over, leaping from the edge of the half-pipe to the ground and circling the three earth-teens before coming to a halt. He grinned hugely. "I'm getting better." 

"Yeah! The last one was a little tweaked, but other than that yeah! Absolutely you're doing better! Dude, you're picking this stuff up faster than anybody I've ever seen. What's your secret?"

Nosedive shrugged, still grinning. "Back home-" meaning Puckworld- "all we do is skate. It's always winter so we've always got ice. Our skates work indoors and out, cause they can switch from blades to wheels depending on where we are. I've been skating since I could walk. Plus, I've been working out and doing acrobatics a long, long time, cause I liked to get into trouble and it's easier to lose a gang if you can do stuff like this. I've actually done some inline skating before, it was just on ice skates and I didn't realize what I was doing."

"Awesome," Justin complimented, "sounds like a cool place to live."

"It's colder, anyway," Nosedive agreed with a smirk.

"Smart ass."

"Thanks." The com on Nosedive's wrist sounded shrilly and he frowned down at it. "Oh come _on_, Wing," he grumbled, checking it. "It's only seven thirty. I've got half an hour before I've got to check in. Nosedive here," he said to the com and waited for a response.

"Dive, it's me."

"Hey, Wing, what's-"

"Drake One picked up some serious teleportation energy a few blocks from where you are. I want you to go there. Tanya's sending the location to your com. Head that way now but _wait for me_ before going in. You got it?"

"Yup," the teen assured quickly.

"No heroics, Dive. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Nosedive saluted.

His brother sighed. "Be careful," he warned one last time and closed the connection.

Nosedive grinned at Justin. "Duty and my brother call."

"So _that's_ what your brother's like. I can see why you'd like to irritate him."

"Not irritate," the Puckworldian corrected easily, beginning to skate away, "just tease. Once he gets over the initial shock of inline skating, he'll think it's pretty cool."

"Whatever you say, Nosedive."

"Catch ya later, Justin! Bye, Thrash! Bye, Mook!"

"Bye, Dive!" they called together, waving. 

Mookie smiled at Justin once Nosedive was gone. "Cool, isn't he?"

Justin nodded, impressed at the kind of speed the strange teen was capable of. "Absolutely."

Wildwing spotted Nosedive shortly after the teen had spotted him. 

"I waited," the teen informed his brother, grinning proudly. 

"Well, good for you," Mallory congratulated dryly.

"And I also scoped the place out."

"_Nose_dive," Wildwing sighed, massaging his forehead with one hand. 

"Hey, you just said not to go in and I didn't. Can we go in now?"

"What's this building?" Canard asked, looking at the large rectangular structure.

"Warehouse for a furniture store," Nosedive answered easily. "Filled with odds and ends, including but not limited to: refrigerators, kitchen cabinets, beds, desks, and couches."

Everyone stared at him until he grinned again and shrugged.

"That means there are lots of places for them to hide," Duke pointed out.

"It _also_ means they've been here for about twelve minutes," Nosedive reminded everyone in an impatient tone, "and they could leave at any time. Let's go kick some tail already."

"Don't be un such a rush, small fry," Canard reprimanded. "If they leave then they leave, but if we just throw ourselves into a battle unprepared someone could get hurt."

"Hasn't happened before," the teen muttered.

Canard ignored the imperfections of Nosedive's youth. "Okay, so what do these warehouses look like? How many doors and windows?"

"Huge loading docks at the front and back with smaller attached entrance doors, five medium-sized windows along the long walls, two each for the smaller. Um, one skylight, virtually no security beyond locks and bars. Glass windows, not plastic. Doors made of metal reinforced by wooden crossbeams, ditto for the walls." They stared at him again. "Do you have any idea how _bored_ I was waiting for you guys to get here?" he demanded.

"Okay," Canard continued, "so our best bet would be going in through the skylight since-"

"Bad idea," Nosedive interrupted immediately. "There's a huge ventilation system underneath it for just that reason."

"All right, so we'll-"

"We could just go in the way the Saurians did. They hacked open the back loading dock and left it open. I wasn't kidding about the security. This stuff must be pretty worthless."

Canard sighed and frowned. "_Fine._ We'll go in through the loading dock. Come on, let's get this over with."

"Awesome," Nosedive cheered softly, following Canard and his brother, who was wearing the Mask still. "Not that I care," the teen began in a whisper, "but aren't you going to take the Mask back, Canard? I mean, you _did_ find it."

"And it made its way to Wildwing, who'll keep it," the older duck assured simply. "It didn't stay with me. I don't know why, but it didn't. Wildwing is the one who should have it."

"Okay," the teen agreed, "that works for me."

"Shh," Canard ordered as they entered the building. "Everyone be on the lookout for—oof!" A hunter drone got him in the midsection just after the last of his team had entered the building. Smoke filled the room.

"Trap!" Duke cried, slashing at two hunter drones.

"There are only thirty hunter drones," Nosedive hissed at his brother, watching his back. "This doesn't feel right. It's not like it should be."

"Just focus on surviving and sticking with me," Wildwing returned sharply. "It's getting hard to see. If you wander away I'll think of something evil to do to you. Understand?"

"Gotcha."

"Hey!" they heard Mallory cry. "Don't _touch me, you filthy little lizard!" _

Chameleon came hurtling through the thickening air. He hit a mattress and went bouncing away, grumbling about 'stupid female ducks'.

Nosedive grinned at Canard, who was staying with him and Wildwing. "Gotta love her temperament, don't ya?"

"Stay focused," the leader ordered, but he was smirking. "Make your way back to the door!" he called to the others.

"Which way?" Tanya yelled back. She squeaked in surprised and incinerated a drone. "The atmosphere is too cong-conges—I can't see anything!"

"There's an exit sign!" Nosedive said loudly. "It's glowing red so it's easy to see. Head toward that!"

There was a collective "Right!" accented by the explosion of hunter drones. 

Nosedive followed his brother and Canard closely as they picked their way toward the door.

Canard was muttering about traps and the pointlessness of the entire situation.

"Cheap shots and low blows," Nosedive agreed under his breath.

Finally they made it to the exit. The others were waiting for them there. They made their way outside. The opening was only big enough for one, so they slipped through in single file.

Nosedive was the last in line. Just as he was about to step though, a large, leathery hand clamped his beak closed and dragged him backwards. At that same moment, hunter drones descended upon the other ducks. They could neither hear nor respond to the teen's muffled cries for help. 

Without ever knowing who dragged him, Nosedive was hauled before a figure standing on a desk. The ventilation system chose that moment to kick in and sent the thick smoke wafting away from the being standing above him.

As he was revealed, Nosedive felt his heart freeze and he stopped breathing.

A duck. So much older than either himself or his brother. Probably a lot older than even Duke. Feathers as dark as a night sky, so dark no one knew their true color. Either they were black with a blue tint or blue with a black tint. It never mattered in the end. His eyes were cruel slits of half-lidded mirth. A smirk of triumph changed every line of his face, twisting it into something hellish and fearful.

It was the creation and reason behind seventy-five percent of the teen's nightmares, though not even his own brother knew that. How could he know? This duck was the one aspect of his young life they had not shared. 

That mercy was one of the saving graces of Nosedive's life.

"Hello," the duck greeted in a low, malicious tone. "Remember me?"

"Dryden," Nosedive breathed in a terrified whisper, his knees buckling.

"Ah, so you _do_ remember. The look on your face tells me how much you recall. I have always _loved _that look. I remember you, too, Nosedive. The one who got away. Do you know why I'm here?"

Nosedive couldn't answer. He found himself physically incapable of speech or movement. 

Dryden leapt from the desk to bend very low, getting eye-to-eye with the trembling teenager. "I'm here to finished what I started all those years ago. This time, little _Nosedive._" He trailed the fingers of his right hand through the soft blond locks, clenching his hand into a fist and pulling harshly as he said the teen's name, jerking his head back. "This time there will be _no escape._"

"Nosedive!" a voice cried. The name was echoed by five others. 

Dryden, still maintaining his painful grip on Nosedive's hair, smiled coldly down at him. "You are still mine," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You always will be." As a parting gift he slammed his fist into the unprepared teen's stomach, making blood and bile rise in his throat. "Don't forget."

He was gone by the time Wildwing reached Nosedive, who knelt crumpled on the ground, clutching his stomach and sucking in ragged, painful breaths.

"Are you all right?" Wildwing demanded in terror, dropping to his brother's side and making him sit up with gentle hands. "What _happened?"_

"One of the Saurians grabbed me before I got out," he gasped, his breathing still very irregular. "The drones separated us and I couldn't get away. I think he was going to do much worse than slug me. Lucky you got here."

"Lucky nothing," Wildwing fumed. "I should have been here sooner!"

"Not possible," Nosedive wheezed, a feeling rising in his stomach. He was going to- "Excuse me," he cried, dashing from the building to wretch, expelling both the pain and terror. Wildwing gave him a moment then walked quickly to join him once he was done.

"That must have been one hell of a punch," Duke commented, "to make the kid lose it like that." He sounded worried.

Canard felt white-hot fury burning in the pit of his stomach. Why didn't he make the small fry go first? He could have handled that punch; he knew he could have. He should have made Nosedive leave the building second or third. How _could_ he have let him go _last? _Dumb, dumb, dumb!

"I'm okay now," Nosedive called to them weakly. "I'm not doing anything humiliating any more. We can go."

The ride back to the Pond was totally silent. Every now and then someone would glance back at Nosedive to see how he was doing. Once he sat down he remained motionless, staring dismally out the window at the dark evening sky, one hand resting lightly on his stomach.

Though it was only his for the moment, soon the time would come when his nightmare would become the terror of all.

Dryden was back, and that meant serious trouble.

AN: ….Mmmyup. There ya go. Like? If so, lemme know and I'll get the rest posted. If I get no response, than neither will you. If you want more, tell me. Okay? Okay. Aloha, people!

-Angel Baby


	2. Part Two: Little White Lies

AN: Well, here's part two. I don't have much to say about it, so this'll be short. Oh, yeah, I forgot to warn everyone last time. This is meant to be an extremely disturbing fic. It gets pretty…I dunno if you'd call it _deep_, at the end. More like intense. There's serious death and Issues. Bad Stuff happens. If that bothers you, then…thanks for dropping by. Nothing too graphic, but some rather awful stuff gets mentioned in passing. 

If you're still here, let me know when you figured out just exactly what Dryden is to Nosedive.

I bet you'll never guess.

Disclaimer: Not it!

                        Part Two: Little White Lies

                                  Truth is the Optional Reality

            "Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop the play!" Canard skated from the goalposts to Nosedive, frowning slightly. "Small fry, you missed that puck by a mile. This is a relatively simple play; what's up?"

            Nosedive shrugged, refusing to meet the leader's eyes. "I dunno. Just off my game, I guess."

            "Well, that's not gonna work out here." Canard tapped the ice lightly with the toe of one skate. "Either you're on your game naturally or you make yourself be on your game. That's what hockey's all about, isn't it?"

            "Yeah," the teen mumbled, "I guess."

            "Bro, what's up?" Wildwing asked, skating over. "You're not usually this spaced. You okay?"

            Nosedive shrugged again, still staring at the ice by his feet.

            "Rough night?"

            The teen's gaze snapped up in surprise. He looked at his brother, who was smiling fondly and a little sadly. 

            "Nightmares again?"

            He glanced away, embarrassed. Nightmares so terrifying he hadn't even been able to scream. How had Wildwing known?

            Canard sighed, giving the teen a lopsided smile. "It's okay, squirt. We've all had rough nights. You can cut out of practice this _one_ time, okay? But you'd better be ready tomorrow. Go take a nap or something."

            Nosedive shot his brother and Canard grateful looks as he skated away. Once he was underground, though, his mask melted away and he frowned worriedly at his door, shifting his weight uncertainly. Of course he couldn't take a nap. That involved sleeping, and he didn't want to sleep if he could help it.

            Sighing, the alien teen turned toward the workroom, where the newly repaired Duckcycle was just begging to be ridden. No one would mind if he left as long as he took his com.

            Right?

            Nosedive watched Justin skate, respect and envy mingling pleasantly in his chest. The human practically flew, shifting from half-pipe to quarter-pipe to other obstacles Dive hadn't learned the names for with tricks and effortless talent that left the mind boggled. 

            "Hey, Dive," Justin greeted, skating over once he noticed his audience. "What brings you to the skate park so early?"

            The duck shrugged. "I'm always up this early and I couldn't stay at the Pond any more. I figured I'd head over here and get some practice in. Didn't expect to see _you_ here already, though."

            Justin laughed. "Yeah. I like to sleep, but I love skating. There's no contest for me. I'm gonna be here all day. How about you?"

            "As long as I can manage," Nosedive admitted, shrugging. "Don't know when my brother will call me back in, but I'm hoping I'll be able to learn something new before then. What do you think?"

            "Sure," Justin agreed easily. 

            They spent the next three hours working on different tricks. Justin took Nosedive through the skate park, naming each of the obstacles and listing all the different tricks that could be performed on them. 

            "You're getting very good at this," Justin complimented, watching Nosedive on the half-pipe. "You'll be serious competition in no time flat at this rate."

            "Nah," Nosedive disagreed, skating slowly over. "I'm not trying to learn so I can compete."

            "Then why are you?"

            A shrug. "It just looked like something fun to do, ya know? Something challenging and time consuming."

            "Huh." Justin glided a small distance away, thinking, a slight frown turning down the corners of his mouth. Finally he grinned back at Nosedive. "Hey, it's lunch time. You wanna go see if Thrash and Mookie are free? They were only supposed to be pulling the morning shift. We could all get something to eat and catch a movie."

            "Cool," Nosedive agreed, catching up with the earth teen. "What's playing?"

            "Hmm, let's see…my sister says _The Count of Monte Cristo_ was good, but I kinda wanted to see _The Mothman Prophecies_, myself."

            Nosedive shrugged, smiling a lopsided smile. "_Mothman_ looks excellent."

            "Great, we can see that. There should be a 2:15 showing we can all go to."

            "Okay. That works."

            They lapsed into a silence that was neither oppressive nor uncomfortable. Justin studied Nosedive out of the corner of his eye. 

            Spending a lot of time outside with friends, getting involved with an activity that was hugely time consuming, developing a tendency to brood, worry or fear growing steadily in the eye's shadow… All the signs were there. But why?

            "Come on," he suggested suddenly, making Dive look up in surprise. "Let's race!" He took off, leaving the bewildered Puckworldian behind for only a moment.

            Justin knew almost instinctively that Nosedive would have won if he'd wanted to. 

            "Hey, Thrash, Mookie!"

            The two, just stepping out of Captain Comics, spotted the skaters and smiled. Mookie waved. "Hey, guys!"

            "You guys wanna get something to eat and catch a flick?"

            "Sure." Mookie grinned. "Oh, by the way, Dive, your comics came in today."

            "No, really? Sweet! Hold on, I'm gonna go get 'em. Meet you guys at the food court. What're we having anyway?"

            "Need you ask?" Thrash asked in mock surprise. 

            "Tacos?" Nosedive guessed, grinning.

            "Naturally."

            "Okay, meet you there!"

            "See ya!"

            Dive skated merrily into the comic shop, totally unaware of the calculating gaze that followed his falsely carefree actions.

            One of his friends was not fooled.

            The moment Nosedive had been dreading since he left the Pond almost twelve hours earlier took place as he was setting up for a landing from what would normally have been a beautifully executed sick grab.

            His com went off suddenly, startling him into dropping the skate frame he'd been holding, which rightly and totally screwed up his landing. He hit the side of the half-pipe hard, sliding and tumbling down to lay in a confused, tangled heap at the bottom. Justin, knowing how falls like that felt, stayed at the top of his quarter-pipe instead of skating down and laughed, pointing at Nosedive and clutching his stomach. A few of the other skaters present merely made compassionate sounds of understanding and continued to play.

            Nosedive sat up, pulled off his helmet, and answered the call. "Yeah?" he asked almost hesitantly. Justin saw him wince at the response. He kicked off his quarter-pipe, gliding to where Nosedive sat in time to catch him saying, "Yeah, I'm sorry. I know, I should have called, but it's not eight yet and that's when you said to call."

            "You didn't even tell anyone you were going out," an angry voice accused.

            Another wince. "I know. I didn't think I'd be out all that long."

            That, Justin knew, was a lie.

            "All the same," a new voice commented, "you should have called."

            "I know, Canard. I'm sorry."

            "If you know all this and you're always sorry, why do you keep doing it?"

            "I dunno…"

            "At least it's a different answer," the one called Canard sighed. "Come back now and report to the Ready Room. We'll be waiting there when you-"

            "I can't," Nosedive interrupted. 

            There was a silence. Then, "Why _not?"_

            "I promised some people I'd…help out before I went. It might take a while."

            "Well…"

            "C'_mon_, Wing, I'll be there just as soon as I can."

            "All right," was the sighed response. "But if I ever figure out you let yourself get distracted…"

            The threat hung in the air a moment. Nosedive was quick to reassure the anxious ducks on the other side of his com that he'd be fine. Finally he said goodbye and hung up, sighing and slumping once he'd disconnected. 

            "What's up?" Justin asked casually, plopping down next to the Puckworldian.

            "Nothing."

            "Really?" Justin looked skeptical. "Those two guys sounded pretty ticked."

            "Yeah. My brother and his best friend, Canard, self-appointed taskmaster." Nosedive sounded bitter. "Now the grand total's up to three."

            "Grand total of what?"

            "My older brothers."

            "What'd ya mean?"

            "I've got Wing, my blood brother who worries too much and is Disappointed, Duke, my surrogate brother who watches over me even when I don't need it and is distantly Concerned, and Canard, my reluctant-but-apparently-necessary brother who doles out punishments and is Shocked that I've live this long without killing myself." 

            "Huh. Seems like overkill," Justin observed, quirking a grin. "I've just got an older sister and I've pretty much got my hands full with _her_ having her hands full with _me._ It's confusing."

            "Multiply that by three and you might have an inkling of what I'm going through." Nosedive sighed and stood, stretching to get out the kinks. "Ow. That last landing hurt."

            "It was priceless, though. Truly a masterpiece."

            "Thanks."

            "No prob. Hey, why'd you lie to them?"

            Nosedive winced, skating a bit to loosen his tight muscles. "I didn't necessarily…_lie…_per se…"

            Justin stood as well and glided easily by the Puckworldian. "No one needs you to help out here."

            "I know."

            "The staff does all that at ten when they close."

            "I know."

            "You're going to stay here till closing."

            "I know."

            "So you lied."

            "…I know."

            "Why?"

            "I just…" Another frustrated sigh as Nosedive dragged a hand through his hair. "It's hard. Everyone always wants me to be this perfect little hockey playing heroic teenager. They've set me up with this whole…persona that just doesn't mesh with some of the things I've seen and done and had done to me. I mean, now that he's back, they're going to figure out I'm not who they think I am, and I don't think they'll be able to handle it. Dryden's—" Nosedive cut himself off, continuing to skate but glaring slightly at the concrete beneath him as though it'd betrayed him.

            Justin was silent for a long time. Then he asked, very slowly, "Who's Dryden?" From the sudden blossoming of panic in Nosedive's eyes, Justin knew he'd finally figured out just what he'd wanted to know. "You don't have to tell me yet," he assured. "Not if you don't want to."

            Nosedive didn't respond. After a while he skated back over to the half pipe; his grabs still needed work, and the skate park would close soon. He wanted it to be perfect before he left. 

            Perfection didn't save you from pain, but sometimes it helped.

            "Why do these guys only attack at night?" Tanya yawned from her seat in the Aerowing.

            "Better question," Duke argued, "why are they popping up in a _meat_ packing plant?"

            "Factory discount?" Nosedive suggested thinly. He had an idea whose plan would take the Saurians to a meat freezer, though he also hoped desperately he was wrong.

            "We'll know in a second," Wildwing responded, bringing the ship in for a silent landing on the roof. 

            "Tanya, you go with Grin," Canard ordered. "Duke, you're with Mallory. Nosedive, you come with Wildwing and me. There's no way we're having a repeat of last time."

            Nosedive winced, unnoticed, as the others went off in pairs. He trailed behind Wildwing and Canard, damning his luck. Should've stayed with Justin. Just a few more minutes and they probably would have left him back in Anaheim rather than waste time tracking him down. Damn his rotten luck and sense of time.

            What were they doing in a refrigerated meat factory, anyway? Not that the cold bothered him, but really. It was yet another example of the Saurians' (or _his)_ lack of imagination. If they wanted to freak him out, the least they could do was put a little effort into it.

            Just as Wildwing and Canard told him to stay put and slipped into the office section of the compound, an old Puckworldian lullaby tinkled softly in the background, making the tiny hairs on the back of Nosedive's neck stand straight up.

            Okay, so maybe they _had_ put some effort into it. Especially if that was song he thought it was. Even now, after all these years, the sound of it chilled him to the bones.

It was the tune Dryden had always hummed whenever he cooked or…froze things.

His mind shied away from that thought even as his feet began leading him toward the sound.

_            Stupid! _his mind screamed at him. _Stupid! Do you realize where we're GOING?_

            Yes. Of course he realized where he was going.

_            Do you realize to whom we're walking?_

            Yes. Oh, this was going to be very, very bad. But he couldn't stop. He was totally, 100% incapable of halting his forward progression.

            The music was on the other side of this door.

            Okay. This was the very last chance he had to turn away and save his own life. If he opened the door, he would probably either die or have to be saved.

            Why the _hell_ was he opening the door?

            Nosedive slipped into the room and discovered two things immediately. 

            One: it was a very cold, ice-coated freezer.

            Two: Dryden had an excellent memory and flare for dragging to the surface those things that Nosedive most wanted to forget.

            Meat lined the walls. Probably different assorted parts of cows and such. In the very center of the room, perfectly preserved and totally frozen, was a heart. Cow heart, his Earthen biology informed him, but it didn't matter. It was the thought _behind the heart that truly matted._

            Nosedive pushed himself as far against the opposite wall as was physically possible, a whimper of complete and utter terror slipping out unbidden.

            The figure standing behind the box with the heart chuckled. "I'd hoped you'd remember," Dryden said, smiling coldly. 

            The object of his cruel gaze continued to stare blindly at the heart, images and memories long repressed slamming to the surface. He began to tremble.

            "Ah, Nosedive," Dryden sighed, stepping around the box as the younger duck slid to the ground, eyes still locked on the heart, "that wonderful look again_. It always makes you look and act so…_young_, so __weak. Don't worry though. I'm sure we can work on these little problems of yours the way we used to, right?" He crouched by the teen's side. "You do remember," he growled into his ear. "Don't you?" A huge crash came from just outside the door. The sounds of Wildwing and Canard looking frantically for Nosedive.     "We'll continue this later," Dryden promised._

            By the time Canard and Wildwing found Nosedive, the dark duck and his horrendous prop were long gone. 

            "Nosedive?" Wildwing called softly in concern, shaking his baby brother slightly to get his attention. The younger duck was staring at a point on the far wall of the freezer. A fine trembling had a strong hold on his slight frame and would not stop. 

            Finally Canard reached around Wildwing and hauled Nosedive to his feet. "Up you get, small fry," he instructed, and led the teen from the room. 

            Only when the door was closed was Nosedive able to talk, though even then he didn't say much. 

            "What happened?" his brother demanded. "Why'd you wander away? Why were you just sitting there? What _happened?"_

            "I don't know," Nosedive would lie, looking away. "One minute I'm waiting for you to get back, the next Canard is dragging me from a freezer and you're demanding to know what happened. I honestly don't remember."

            "You promise?" Wildwing practically begged. 

            That Nosedive wouldn't answer, settling for shaking his head and averting his already lowered gaze to study something—_anything_—else. 

            Wildwing may have questioned his little brother's excuse, but Canard would always remember that moment as the first time he had ever doubted Nosedive himself. It was the first time he'd ever been totally positive the younger duck was keeping secrets, and it was the first time he had ever cared.

            But it was not the last.

            Nosedive's time in the Pond, already the least of anyone else, began to diminish drastically. Soon he was only found indoors for two basic reasons: practice and sleep. Whoever his new friends were and whatever activities he'd taken up, they were consuming vast portions of his day. At first, no one really noticed. Or, if they did, they didn't make a big deal about it. As long as he made practice, checked in occasionally and kept his com with him, no one could really find fault with him for trying to have a life. 

However, as the days became weeks and the weeks doubled and he continued to remove himself from the atmosphere that he used to choose above all else, the Mighty Ducks became concerned. 

            When asked about it, the teen only shrugged, grinned wryly and went off to do whatever it was he'd been doing. 

            The more time he spent away from the Pond, the more timid he became with his teammates, including his brother. It seemed almost as though they were beginning to scare him, and that was strange as well as upsetting 

            His growing discomfort with the team began to show in his game. In practice, he hesitated before passing the puck or shooting and would do anything to avoid checking or being checked.

            Why was he so distressed suddenly? They hadn't done anything, had they? What had changed so drastically that Nosedive was choosing to pull away rather than face it?

Finally Canard, seeing no other option, called the teen aside after morning practice. Nosedive seemed nervous, which confused and troubled the leader. What had he ever done to the pipsqueak?

            "Hey, small fry," Canard greeted in a desperate stab at nonchalant. "What's up?"

            "Nothing," Nosedive assured too quickly, glancing around and wringing his hands slightly. How much did Canard guess?

            "Are you going out?"

            "Yeah."

            "Huh… Why're you spending so much time out lately?"

            A jerky shrug. "No reason. It's just really nice outside."

            "Nosedive. It's been raining the past three days."

            The teen winced. "Good company makes any day better," he offered hopefully.

            Canard sighed. "Look, I was hoping I wouldn't have to ask flat-out like this, but…I'm not very good at diplomacy so I'll just spit it out. Who are you spending all this time with and why?"

            Nosedive took an almost shaky breath. "Mostly Thrash and Mookie, but when they're working I, um…hang out with Justin and a few of his friends."

            "Who's Justin? Thrash and Mookie I've been told about, but no one mentioned anyone by that name." A quick glance at the blank expressions on the rest of his team told him that this human must be a new acquaintance. 

            "I only met Justin a little while ago," Nosedive assured. "Thrash and Mookie introduced us. Justin's tight, though."

            "Tight?"

            "Oh, yeah, uh…I mean, he's ok."

            "Are you sure?"

            "Sure I'm sure." The teen blinked in confusion. "Why wouldn't I be sure?"

            "It's just…" Canard sighed in frustration, frowning slightly. "Come on, Nosedive, you haven't even known this guy two months and you're spending more time with him then all of us put together. He's not even from our planet."

            Nosedive was offended on his friend's behalf. "It's not his fault he's human. Plus, he's cool. He's teaching me a lot."

            "Yeah, but about what?"

            "Earth," the teen replied almost defiantly. "The people here and what they do."

            "You mean the _teenagers here and what _they_ do."_

            "So what?"

            "So—so nothing." Canard sighed again. "If you think what he's teaching you is worth while, that's fine with me. Still…"

            "Still what?"

            "Why can't you spend more time _here?" the older duck exploded with sudden vehemence, motioning quickly with one hand._

            And then he began to understand what Nosedive's problem was because, when he motioned, the teen _flinched._

            Shocked and oddly hurt, he remained motionless as Nosedive skittered away and out of the Pond, muttering something about being late. 

            "He flinched," Canard stated in a wounded voice when Wildwing came over to see how it had gone. "I just motioned with my hand and he _flinched_ as though he thought I was going to strike him. I've never hit another being in anger before in my life. Sometimes I've really, _really_ wanted to, but I've never actually done it. And that duckling—the pintsized twerp that practically grew up with me—_flinched. Wildwing…is that why he's spending so much time away? Is he…is it possible that your brother is _afraid_ of me?"_

            Wildwing started. "No!" he exclaimed. "Nosedive has known you forever. He knows you would never hurt him, just like he knows I would never hurt him. It's all right, Canard. I don't know what his problem is, but he'll either work through it on his own or come to me for help. He _will_ get through it. He always does. Right?"

            Canard didn't answer.

            Nosedive pulled himself into a hand plant on the top of a quarter-pipe and held himself motionless. Then, instead of dropping back onto the sloping ramp, he flopped onto his back on its flat high surface. "_Man,"_ he sighed, "Canard's probably gonna take that the totally wrong way. But what can I _do? It's a rock and a hard place for good ole Number 33. __Again." Another sigh._

            The sound of skating stopped suddenly as Justin grabbed a seat by Nosedive's blades. "'Sup, dude?"

            "Nothing."

            "That is the most depressed nothing I've ever heard in my entire life, so I'll ask again. What's up?"

            Nosedive hesitated. Then, resigning himself to his fate, he sat up and frowned at the quarter-pipe that dropped off practically underneath him. "Have you ever known something that's really important and kinda horrible but been unable to tell anyone because the ones who need it the most might not be able to handle it and what it means?"

            It took Justin a moment to process that. "Yeah," he admitted finally, "I kinda have."

            "What was it?"

            "I'll tell you if you tell me what you're talking about."

            "Fair enough. So what'd you do about it?"

            Justin did not miss the fact that Nosedive was silently refusing to tell him what was going on. "The information festered in my brain for a long, long time before I did what I'd always known I'd have to do. But, in the end, I just did it anyway, mostly because the someone who would suffer most didn't think I'd be able to actually do it. That's another story though."

            A pause. "Did everything turn out all right?"

            "Well," Justin sighed, standing, "it wasn't a picnic, and I still don't have what my sister calls a happily ever after, but things are better. It just got to a point where one of two things was going to happen and I picked option B."

            "What was option A?"

            "What's _your option A?"_

            "Point taken."

            "Nosedive, I'm not saying I don't want to tell you what happened, but you've gotta tell someone, too. The trade is just supposed to be an incentive."

            The duck wouldn't respond.

            Finally Justin dropped back onto the quarter-pipe, shaking his head as he skated away.

            Nosedive watched him work out for a long time, and might have continued indefinitely had his com not gone off. "I'm here," he greeted.

            "Nosedive, this is Tanya."

            "Hey, Tanya. What's up?"

            "Uh, Drake One picked up some weird teleportation energy in a wire factory across town. Canard wanted me to call and tell you to come back to the Pond so we can head over there."

            So Canard was taking the flinching slip more personally than he'd previously feared. A pity. Oh, well, he'd get over it. "Be right there."

            "Thanks. Tanya out."

            Nosedive sighed and stood, stepping down onto the ramp's vertical drop and using the momentum to propel himself effortlessly across the arena to the door.

            "Duty calls?" Justin asked, skating up to him.

            "Yeah."

            "Dude, no hard feelings, right?"

            Nosedive grinned. "Actually, I was about to ask that myself."

            Justin returned the grin. "Just worried about you, dude."

            "You don't have to be."

            The human shrugged and began skating away. "Have fun!"

            "Yeah, yeah."

            Justin's laugher echoed through the indoor skate park.

            "Hey, look on the bright side," Nosedive offered helpfully. "At least it's not dark, right?"

            "I'm going to kill him," Mallory informed Grin calmly. "I'm going to wring his scrawny little neck." 

            Nosedive picked that inopportune moment to laugh, and Mallory lunged at him. Grin grabbed her mid-leap and kept a restraining hand on her shoulder, telling her calmly, "Regret is born of haste; mistake born of anger."

            Mallory continued to glare.

            The three were caught in a cage, waiting anxiously for help. How they'd managed to get themselves trapped so early on was to become a long running joke, but not for many, many years to come.

            "Wing and Canard will find us first," Nosedive predicted, toying with one of the thick bars. "Duke and Tanya won't be far behind. Wildwing will lecture me, then start to fizzle out, at which point Canard will take over. You two won't even get frowned at. Man, being the youngest sucks."

            Mallory smirked at him and opened her mouth to add a barb.

            She was cut off as something was dropped into the cage.

            "How odd," she commented, picking it up and examining it. She showed it to Grin. "It's a dagger, but the tip's broken off. And…there's a little vial attached by twine. What's it mean?"

            Grin shook his head, shrugging. 

            Neither looked over to Nosedive, who had pressed himself into the far corner of the cage, his face pale, familiar trembles running thorough him once again. He knew what the dagger meant, knew why it was broken, knew where the tip was. He knew what the vial and twine represented, both then and now.

_            He_ was here. Dryden. 

            At that moment two dark, strong hands darted through the bars to wrap tightly around the teen's neck. 

            It took a few moments before he could work up the ability to flail and gag. Once he did, Mallory and Grin turned to him.

            Mallory let out a little cry of surprise, darting over and slamming the butt of her puck launcher into the closest hand. Grin jerked Nosedive out of the figure's hold, keeping him held protectively close as the laughing creature faded into the shadows once more.

            Wildwing and Canard finally showed up and freed them. Mallory immediately gave an account of what happened and showed them the dagger, vial and twine. 

            "What does it mean?" Wildwing asked. No one knew.

            Canard studied Nosedive inconspicuously. Even for a surprising physical attack such as had happened, the half-pint was very shaken. It was staying with him, making the fine tremors wracking his body continue even now that the threat was gone.

            A few moments later, Duke and Tanya rounded a corner and were told the story.

Once they had all been gathered, the figure reappeared as though he'd been waiting for just such an occasion. 

            "The Mighty Ducks," it hissed, chuckling. "Not so mighty as all that, I'd say."

            Nosedive recognized the voice and his trembling increased two-fold.

            Only Canard noticed.

            "You know us, but who're you? What do you want?" Wildwing demanded with all the strength he could muster.

            Another low, dark laugh. "I? I am Dryden; just Dryden. And all I want is my property."

            "We don't have anything that belongs to you!" Mallory told him angrily. "Why did you try to kill Nosedive?"

            "I want what is mine."

            "Oh yeah?" Duke challenged. "What's that?"

            Finally Dryden stepped into the light and Canard's worst fear was confirmed. The duck smiled evilly, his eyes narrowed. "You will see."

            He vanished in an explosion of black tinted green light.

            "Ok, what _was that?" Tanya demanded, turning on Canard. "Your face paled when he showed himself. Who is he?"_

            "Dryden," Canard sighed miserably, massaging his temples. "Dryden is…it's hard to explain. Let's go back to the Pond; we can talk about it there."

            "Is the story long?" Mallory asked, confused. 

            "I'd feel safer there," Canard admitted, shaking his head.

            "Is he that bad?"

            "Yes. That and so much worse."

            The trip back to the Pond was silent. It was quickly becoming the norm.

            Nosedive excused himself before Canard told his story.

            But that was to be expected, too.

            "Dryden was…_is the worst criminal Puckworld has ever known." Canard paused, studying the tabletop. Then he sighed, rubbed his face harshly, and continued, "For a long time, no one knew how bad he was, because he has this uncanny ability to blend right in with everyday people…who would have suspected him? But…he's nuts. When he was about twelve, at least that's how old the coroners __think he was, something drastic happened to him and he went off the deep end, killing his entire family, mother, father, two older brothers and little sister. Then, over the next fifteen, twenty years, he murdered __more people. The total was something like thirty-six all together. His trademark in all the murders showed how sick he really was. Whenever they looked the bodies over, they could always find everything except the heart. Even today no one knows what happened to them. _

            "You know, it's strange. Up until the day he was caught—and there's _still_ speculation as to how he came to justice—he was a model citizen. He didn't have a record, hadn't ever even gotten a ticket or warning for anything. Once the Government realized what he was, they locked him up as tight as they could. Honestly, he frightened and embarrassed them. After all, they were dealing with Puckworld's only serial killer. 

            "When the Saurians hit, they stumbled upon information about him and decided to see if he'd work for them, which, predictably, he did. He led one of the worst, most horrifying camps to date, known as Dryden's Hell. Few survived, and those that did are wounded in every way possible, physically, mentally and emotionally. They can't tell anyone about what he did because they can't form the words. Most of them are so terrified of him they can't even be in the same room with people who are discussing him. They are physically incapable of _hearing the name Dryden._

            "And that's why I paled," he sighed. "That's what we're dealing with here. That's what the Saurians have contacted and dragged to this unsuspecting world. I honestly don't think they know what they've done yet, but they will. When they do, we can only hope they send him back to his cell."

            Silence as the Mighty Ducks processed the new information.

            "So…basically," Duke summarized, "now, instead of fighting Saurians bent on our destruction, we've got to face Saurians _and_ the most evil Puckworldian ever created who, if he catches one of us, is probably going to kill us and rip out our hearts."

            "Yeah," Canard agreed heavily, "that's about it."

            "Well, damn."

            "Pretty much."

AN: Erm, wa-haha? Anyway, see you next Wednesday(ish). Have a great Halloween!! 


	3. Part Three: Breaking Faith

AN: Okay. I have no excuses. Well, actually, I have LOTS of excuses, but they're not worth whining about. …No, they are, but that's not the point. The point IS: I'm sorry this is so late. Hopefully it will make up for itself, and I'll try not to make you wait so long in the future. Real Life sucks, and the people up at the Kapole Payless are NUTS, yo. NUTS.

Disclaimer: O o

                        Part three: Breaking Faith

                                  Dark Days and Lightning  
  


            Nosedive took a ragged breath, letting it out in a slow, controlled sigh. Nightmares. Why did it always have to be nightmares? At least he wasn't waking up screaming, due in whole to the fact that they were coming from _that time_ in his life. Then again, if he didn't wake up screaming, no one knew he was having night terrors and Wildwing couldn't comfort him. 

            Not to mention how it was affecting his game. Or, rather, what _used_ to be his game. Now that Dryden was back with the sole purpose of reclaiming what he'd always referred to as his property, he was permanently distracted, on and off the ice. Only inline skating, which demanded all his attention all the time, could make him forget about Dryden. 

            The teen glanced at his clock, still working on getting his breathing and heart rate back to normal. Four thirteen. The alarm wouldn't go off for another hour and seventeen minutes. What was he supposed to do in the meantime?

            Oh well, he sighed mentally, standing. Time to get going. Nothing better to do, right?

            Right.

            Wildwing almost jumped out of his skin in surprise when he and Canard entered the rink to discover someone had beaten them there. 

            "We're not awake," he told Canard as he realized it was Nosedive, up and active before anyone else. "We've got to be dreaming or something. I mean, we've just _got_ to be. There's no other rational explanation."

            Canard grinned lopsidedly. "Sure there is. The runt just woke up before us, that's all. Miracles happen everyday, you know."

            "Yeah, but this isn't a miracle. This is defiance of reality. My brother is the world's worst morning person. He doesn't think the day technically begins until noon. Why is          he up so early?"

            "Dunno," Canard shrugged, "let's ask." He called Nosedive over.

            The teen glanced back at him and had a quick mental debate before gliding over. "Yeah?"

            "What're you doing up so early? Your brother thinks it's the apocalypse. What made you wake up?"

            Nosedive shrugged, uncomfortable. What would Canard do if he knew? "Just got up."

            "Huh…no kidding. Well, that's strange. How long have you been up here?"

            "About an hour."

            "It's the end of the world!" Wildwing exclaimed, skating around his little bother. "Nosedive's practicing early!"

            "Very funny, Wing." Nosedive grinned, forgetting for a moment the severity of the problem facing him. "I've been known on occasion to get up early." He slid the puck he'd been practicing with toward his brother. 

            "Yeah, on your Hatching Day."

            "Har har." He skated easily after Wildwing, who pushed the puck across the ice toward a goal. "You just can't take it cause this means I'm going to get even _better_ than you pretty soon."

            Wildwing snorted disbelievingly. "In your dreams, maybe."

            Nosedive quickly stole the puck from his brother and raced it across the ice to the opposite net, where Canard had set himself up as goalie. Gliding behind the net, he tucked the puck in the corner, which made both Canard and Wildwing frown at him.

            "First shot of the day," Canard warned, passing the puck out to Wildwing. "You won't get another one."

            "Yeah," Wildwing agreed, "I won't go easy on you anymore, either."

            "Bring it on," Nosedive taunted.

            As the others slowly trickled up from their own rooms, they picked a side and joined the game. Mallory and Duke joined Wildwing, Grin and Tanya sided with Nosedive. Canard remained goalie, unwilling to halt the wonderful practice session they were having for anything. It was the first time in a _long_ time Nosedive actually looked like he was enjoying himself on the ice, skating with two teammates at his back.

            "Leading," Nosedive panted softly to his brother as a taunt an hour and a half later while he skated backwards in front of him.

            "By one," Wildwing protested just as softly, looking for an opening. There were none, which was just as well.

            "Actually," the teen argued, stealing the puck and sending it to Tanya, who set it up and hit it back to Nosedive, who waited for Grin to check Duke before slamming it into the net, "by two."

            Wildwing actually stuck his tongue out at the younger duck. "Nya." 

            "I've always admired your maturity," Nosedive laughed. Then he realized Mallory was about to score and hightailed it down the rink.

            In the end, Nosedive, Grin and Tanya won by one. The teen didn't look like he intended to let his brother forget it for a long, long time.

            "Good practice everyone," Canard congratulated as they all skated off the rink. "You too, Nosedive. Great to see you enjoying the game again."

            Nosedive smiled back at him, pleased for the time being.

            "You gonna head out first thing again?" Wildwing asked, walking behind him as he bladed.

            The teen shrugged. "Not sure yet. I might."

            "Where do you go?"

            "Here and there."

            "With Thrash and Mookie?"

            "Yeah. Them and Justin."

            "Who's Justin?"

            "Just this guy I met who's teaching me some skating tricks." Which was a delicate way of alluding to the fact that he was learning to inline skate without actually saying as much.

            The further they descended into the Pond the more withdrawn Nosedive became, sinking into a deep and silent melancholy. Finally he sighed and stopped skating. When Wildwing looked questions at him he explained, "I just remembered…I told Justin I'd meet him at the park."

            Wildwing arched an eyebrow skeptically. "The park?"

            "Yeah. The skate park."

            "What's a skate park?"

            "It's…hard to explain…Besides, I really gotta go or I'm gonna be late."

            "Tell me about it sometime, okay?"

            "Okay, bro. Catch ya laterz." The teen skated away quickly, flying from the Pond as though it was a prison from which he'd just been freed.

            "You think he's really going to a skate park?"

            Canard came up behind Wildwing, shrugging. "Totally depends on the definition of skate park. I don't think he's lying, though."

            "I wasn't asking if he was lying."

            "I know. I'm just saying, he's probably not. Stretching the truth, maybe, withholding information, definitely, but he's a teenager. It's practically in the job description."

            Wildwing sighed, crossing his arms. "We're never going to meet this Justin character, are we?"

            "No, probably not. Not if we don't take the initiative."

            "What're you suggesting?"

            "I think we should go see where the small fry's spending all his time, don't you?"

            "As responsible adults…" Wildwing seemed hesitant to say what he knew had to be said. Finally he sighed. "I don't think we have any choice."

            "I don't think this is a good idea," Nosedive insisted once again, clutching the hockey stick.

            Justin waved the concern off. "Piffle, as my sister would say. This'll be fun, I promise."

            "It's not that I don't think it'll be fun…"

            "Then what?"

            "I dunno, it just…it doesn't seem fair, you know?"

            "Nosedive. It's five to one."

            "See? It's not fair."

            Justin, flopped on the lowest row of bleachers, rolled his eyes. "It was _their_ idea," he reminded the alien, indicating the other five teenagers standing excitedly before him. "Tell _them."_

            "Don't even bother," one of the teens said firmly, grinning, hockey stick in hand. "You have no idea how long we've been waiting for an opportunity like this."

            The other four, also holding sticks, nodded.

            Nosedive sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he reminded them, and set up. 

            The court was small, the size of two basketball courts put together. One trashcan lay on its side at each end. It was five earth teens to one duck, but Nosedive maintained that it wasn't fair. The game had been Justin's idea, a break from inline skating. Plus, these five teens—four boys and a solitary punk-rock queen—were expert inline skaters. They had promised to show Nosedive some tricks, provided he could beat them.

            And _still_ he told them it wasn't fair.

            When the game first began, the earth teens were cocky. They got immediate control of the puck and maneuvered it admirably to their goal, Nosedive trailing almost hesitantly behind whoever had the puck. The girl was the one to make the first attempt at a shot.

            Somehow, as the puck zipped toward the trashcan, Nosedive was just _there_, stopping the forward momentum of the puck and smiling almost pityingly at the other teens. 

            "That was a nice shot," he complimented.

            "Oh, come _on!"_ the girl remonstrated. "We're here for a workout, not a tea party. _Do_ something!"

            Nosedive, thus asked, did.

            He moved about the court with a speed and agility that left the other five players and one spectator dazzled. No _wonder_ he was in the NHL; this was obviously what he'd been born to do. They couldn't figure out how he managed the puck the way he did. Even without teammates, he ruled their small street hockey court. Eventually, as the game wore on, they began to realize that he was teaching them, calling out suggestions every now and then and setting them up for plays the likes of which they'd never dreamed of before.

            "Why are you giving us pointers?" one of the boys panted as they setup for another period. 

            Nosedive grinned at him. "You're gonna teach me how to inline skate, right?" Meaning that he was going to win.

            The teen sighed. "Yeah. We are."

            "Let's call it returning the favor, then."

            The final score was 1-0, though that fooled no one. Nosedive's first and only goal remained by itself simply because he didn't see the need in racking up more points than that.

            "Plus," he told them, "imagine the bragging rights. You went against an NHL player with a final score of 1-0. Think of how that _sounds._"

            "Yeah," the girl argued, "but there were five of us and one of you."

            "So? Who's gonna ask about the numbers of people on the teams?"

            She grinned. "And you don't mind?"

            He shrugged. "What's it to me? I'm not even from this planet, why should I care what people think?"

            "Good point," one of the boys commented, skating up. "But what if it gets to your teammates? Don't you care what they think?"

            Nosedive was silent.

            "Let's go to the skate park!" Justin called over to the cluster of teens, practically bouncing up and down in his impatience. 

            "Okay!" the others agreed.

            Just as Nosedive was about to join them, his com went off. "Probably another mission," he sighed, and checked the message. Instead of someone explaining things, there was just a map with the location of where the others would be waiting.

            Techno Tech. Huh. Sounded like something Tanya would like. 

            He caught up with Justin and explained before skating quickly across the street and around a corner.

            "Cool guy," the girl observed. "Weird, but cool."

            "You have no idea," Justin assured. 

            Dryden scanned the Raptor's files, looking for something.

            Dragonius stood behind him, glaring and smoking. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

            The duck ignored him.

            "I can have you sent back to your prison!"

            "Not anymore," Dryden commented lightly, searching deeper.

            "_What?"_ Dragonius roared. The other three Saurians made a hasty retreat. 

            Frowning, the dark duck turned slightly to narrow his eyes at Dragonius. "You called me here. You promised that I could have my property back. I'm not the one who cast the spell; _you_ are. So now you have one of two choices: either step aside let me reclaim my belonging or I will _make_ you back down and get it anyway."

            Dragonius, for the first time in his life, chose to back down. 

            "Thank you. Now go away and let me finish my research. I'll call you when I need you."

            The Saurian warlord slunk away. When he saw Wraith, Siege and Chameleon waiting for him outside the door, he frowned at them. "This is all your fault!" he hissed softly.

            Chameleon winced. "What're we gonna do, Boss? That duck's taking over!"

            "What _can_ we do?"

            "I could rough him up a bit," Siege offered.

            "Don't be a fool," Wraith interrupted. "That one has recourses I don't even want to think about. My lord, I believe we have summoned the devil himself and unleashed him upon ourselves as well as the ducks."

            Dragonius was silent, a twinge of fear in his stomach agreeing wholly with the statement.

            Logically, if one is incapable of doing something, one passes the something on to a different person who might be able to do more than that first one did.

            Thus a skitterish Nosedive was pared with Duke when the Mighty Ducks split up to explore the maze that was Techno Tech. Due to a chemical spill the day before no one was in the building, which was good for the ducks. 

            "Kid," Duke began in a whisper when Nosedive jumped at a shadow, "why are you so worked up?" The two were checking out the chemical section of the complex, making sure everything was where it should be.

            "Dunno," the teen lied. Dryden was behind this. He _had_ to be. So where was he hiding? 

            "You're freaking out over little nothings that you wouldn't usually even notice," Duke pressed. "What's wrong?"

            Hesitation.

            "C'mon, kid, you know me. I won't tell anyone or tease ya, but ya gotta tell me so I'm prepared if it turns out you're on to something."

            Still Nosedive wavered. Finally he sighed. "It's hard to explain. It's just…that duck. Dryden. He gives me the heebie-jeebies. I…I don't want to face him. I'm not afraid or anything," he fibbed desperately to throw Duke off his trail, "it's just…he's a very, very bad guy, so much worse than Dragonius. Some of the things he's done…what kind of a person can murder their entire family? What kind of sick, twisted psychopath keeps his victims' hearts?"

            "I dunno, Dive," Duke sighed, shaking his head as he checked a computer database for anything logged as missing. "Hey, though. How'd you know about that Dryden character's history? You checked out before Canard told us about it."

            Nosedive flinched. "Uh, you know. People talk."

            Duke chose not to respond, but a suspicion began growing in him at that moment. "Kid," he began slowly, "weren't you in a camp during the invasion?"

            Another wince. "U-um…yes, I was."

            "What was it called?"

            "I, uh…I d-don't remember."

            And that was really all the answer Duke needed for the moment. "I got it," the older duck said, dropping the subject. "Here's a list of things that were taken last night."

            "If they were taken last night, why are we only here today?"

            "It was a break-in so there wasn't any teleportation energy for Drake One to pick up. We only heard about it this morning."

            "Oh."

            "Yeah. Okay, let's go." Duck put the copied filed on a disk that he handed back to Nosedive. The teen tucked it in his holster and turned to leave. 

            Dryden decided to make a cameo. "Hello, ducks," he purred evilly.

            Nosedive immediately backpedaled behind Duke, who leapt forward and placed himself between the young duck and the foul creature before them.

            Dryden actually laughed. "You think that's going to help any?"

            No. Duke actually didn't have the faintest hope that his throwing himself in front of the duckling would help, but it was worth a shot.

            "Huh." The dark murderer had spotted the computer behind Duke that hadn't been turned off yet. "So you want to know what I had taken and why."

            "You _did_ do it, then!" Duke exclaimed, pleased as though he'd personally dragged the information out.

            "Of course. Well, actually, to be more correct I _ordered_ it to be done. The Saurians did the actual stealing, but it was my idea."

            "You…ordered the Saurians?" This idea totally baffled the ex-thief. Saurians could be ordered?

            "Why yes, as a matter of fact." Dryden grinned thinly. "Naturally, I wouldn't actually break any laws myself. Nasty habit. The Saurians, however, seem to enjoy it. It was quite easy, actually. I'm afraid the large lizards rather dislike my presence on their ship. I think I intimidate them. Ah well, though. What will be will be, right?"

            Duke, finding no retort available and becoming concerned for the young, violently trembling duck behind him, only glared.

            "Would you like to know why I stole what I stole?" Dryden offered pleasantly, stepping forward. Nosedive immediately gave ground though Duke refused to do the same. "Actually, it's very interesting. Each thing I stole is a small component I use to make a drug. Well, I call it a drug. Most call it a poison. My own creation, by the way. I use it to get rid of people who bother me." Smiling cruelly, Dryden produced a needle filled with a thin, bright red liquid. "Isn't it beautiful? My poison kills in under an hour. Most painful, too, if I recall."

            Nosedive fought the collapse he felt coming, fought the whimper building in his throat, fought the desire to run away screaming. He _would not_ leave Duke here alone.

            Not that Duke was ever in any danger.

            Dryden attacked suddenly, lunging toward Duke in a characteristically violent move.

            Duke twisted to the side, shoving the needle and Dryden away, and darted back a few steps to draw his saber.

            Which was exactly what Dryden had wanted to happen. 

            The ex-thief felt his heart and stomach drop through the floor. Dryden was standing behind Nosedive, the crook of his left arm pulled against the teen's throat to keep him close, the right pressing the needle ever so slightly into his neck.

            Nosedive was trembling so badly now it looked as though he was about to go into a fit of seizures. His eyes were huge and terrified, his hands limply by his sides.

            Dryden flashed his tiny sadistic smile again. "It all comes down to this: can you kill me before I stick this lovely young duckling?"

            "No, but _I_ can!" Wildwing slammed into Dryden, sending him tumbling to the ground. 

            Canard grabbed the younger duck quickly as he stumbled in the wake of the attack. 

            Everything would have been fine again if it were ever possible to catch Dryden unprepared, but he was not rumored to be devil-spawn for no reason. Turning as he fell, the mass murderer grabbed Nosedive's wrist and jerked. 

            Surprised, Canard felt the teen slip out of his grip and crash down upon Dryden. For a moment the two stared at each other, Canard is disbelief, Dryden in triumph. Then the dark Puckworldian criminal stabbed the needle as far as it would go into the soft flesh just above the teen's collarbone, injecting the liquid. Nosedive gave a small cry and Dryden, laughing, disappeared in a sickening red-green flash.

            Wildwing rushed forward, almost mad with panic, and ran terrified hands over his brother until he was sure the needle was all that was wrong. Then he focused his attention on the syringe and began to lose every partial of good sense he'd ever had. In horror he grabbed the protruding needle.

            "Don't!" Canard snapped, pushing Wildwing away. "You'll only hurt him more. You're no good the way you are. Go with Duke and find Tanya and the others."

            Wildwing stared at him. "Are you _insane?"_ he almost shrieked. "I'm not leaving Nosedive!"

            "Go," Nosedive panted, "it's not that bad. I'll be fine. You have to get the others so we can get back to the Pond."

            Still Wildwing was going to refuse.

            Then a spasm of pain hit the teen hard and he clutched Canard's hand, crying, _"Go!"_

            He went.

            There had never been a journey from any one point to another that happened as quickly as that trip between Techno Tech and the Pond.

            Nosedive, panting and sweating, shirt long since stripped off, a sterile cloth pressed around the syringe, was rushed into the Medlab, where he was thoroughly scanned.

            "That bastard said it killed in an hour," Duke hissed to Canard, making sure the already distraught Wildwing wouldn't hear. "It's been forty-five minutes!"

            "What do you want me to do?" Canard demanded in return. 

            "_Anything._ This team is _finished_ if we lose the kid. Do you realize that? _Finished."_

            "I _know,"_ the haggard leader snapped desperately, "but what can I _do?"_

            "I don't _know!"_

            Tanya extracted the needle in one swift motion. Grin held Nosedive still and Mallory, in a show of maternal instincts kicked into over drive, bent over the teen's head slightly, making him maintain eye contact with her, holding one of his hands, stroking the soft back with her thumb. The other hand rested on his hair; the fingers were working gently, loosening knots and moving thorough the locks in rhythmically soothing motions. She was talking to him, low and soft and comforting, about anything and everything.

            At one point he even managed to gasp a laugh.

            Wildwing could not be made to leave the room, but he was also in no state to be anywhere near the younger duck. Agitated and terrified, he paced the far wall, watching the work happening around his most precious baby brother.

            Tanya took a blood sample and ran it through numerous tests as a body scan read Nosedive's vital signs and showed her what was happening to him internally.

            As the injection spread, it created a radius of pain so intense the machines had trouble documenting it. Though for the time being it had only infected the one set of muscles, soon it would enter the blood stream.

            "I don't know what it'll do to his primary organs," Tanya explained to the rest of her team. "I mean, so far, other than the pain, nothing's wrong with him. You can see here-" she pointed at a monitor- "that already the serum at the initial contact point has worn off. But once it gets in the blood, I just…I don't know. It could give him a heart attack or seizures or…I don't know. All we can do is wait." She shrugged helplessly. "That's about it."

            Nosedive had already blacked out because of the pain. He was lying on the table, Wildwing holding one hand, Mallory still holding the other. Every so often his muscles would spasm and he would gasp, squeezing his teammates' hands.

            Wildwing looked quietly destroyed. If his brother didn't wake up, he'd never recover. It was as simple as that. He'd waste away until he was nothing, then he'd die.

            Grin, though he tried to hide it, was furious. After a few moments of trying to meditate, he gave up and went to their workout room, where he exercised so violently he demolished all their equipment.

            Canard and Duke stood silently in opposite corners of the room, each thinking different thoughts about the same coincidences. 

            The night passed slowly for every member of the Mighty Ducks. Though they each had only one shift of watching Nosedive's condition (which, other than growing steadily more agonizing for the teen, remained relatively stable) no one slept. Wildwing never acknowledged anyone's presence, staying by his brother's side unmoving all night and into the midday hours.

            At around one in the morning, Nosedive began to dream. The terrors of his childhood were dragged out and shown to him again in all their horrors.

            No one knew it then, but the nightmares had been the entire point of the poison. To make Nosedive remember, Dryden would do anything.

            At five fifty-three in the evening, Nosedive moaned softly and opened his eyes. Turning his head slightly, he saw his brother staring blankly at his hand. Tired beyond anything he'd ever been before, he closed his eyes again. For a while he dozed, weary in mind and body from the horrors of his waking nightmares. Then his brother stirred from his silent reverie and he opened his eyes again, smiling weakly at Wildwing's shocked expression. 

            "Hey, Wing," he murmured. "What's up?" To his utter horror and confusion, Wildwing's face crumpled, and his older brother laid his head on the side of the Medlab table, his shoulders shaking. "It's okay," the teen soothed softly, patting his brother's head. "It's okay. Everything's fine. I'm awake now and everything's going to be-" He cut himself off, realizing the futility of the statement. Nothing was ever going to be fine ever again. For the first time, he knew exactly why Dryden was there. Nosedive's life lay shattered around him, but he couldn't let that drag his brother down, too. What could he do to save Wildwing from the tortures he had to face?

            Meanwhile, the older duck had composed himself and he sat up, smiling, eyes over bright. "Took you long enough," he managed in a strangled voice.

            "…Yeah."

            "Are you really all right?"

            "Better than I was."

            "Do you need anything?"

            "I think…a nap would be great."

            "Well, then, go ahead and nap. Tanya's shift is up next. I'll tell her you were up for a bit, then catch some sleep myself."

            "I bet you stayed up all this time waiting for me, huh?"

            "Yeah. Kinda."

            "Idiot."

            Wildwing smiled. "Thanks."

            Smiling in return, Nosedive drifted back to sleep.

            It was the last peaceful conversation the brothers would be allowed to have.

            The next day, when Nosedive showed up for practice, he was yelled at by the entire team and ordered back to bed.

            Slightly shocked and a little perturbed, he headed to his room. 

            So he'd been hurt; so he'd been unconscious and they all thought he'd been dying; so what? Did that mean he couldn't practice?

            No, he'd thought not.

            He was kept under strict bed rest orders for the rest of the day. When the following day began to look like a repeat of the last, Nosedive started to lose his patience with the entire situation and resolved to get out.

            It took him hours to convince the older members of his team (which amounted to everybody) that he was well enough to go outside. 

            "Back by seven!" they demanded, and he agreed, sighing.

            At the skate park, he was greeted by many people who had all been concerned about him. He made up a story for most of them, then pulled Justin aside and told him the truth.

            "Bummer," the skater summarized once the duck was done. 

            "Seriously. I've got to figure out what to do about all the older brothers and sisters I seem to have amassed for myself."

            "Good luck, dude," Justin offered, shaking his head. "Look, I've got serious practice to do for an upcoming competition, but Tiger's here. She's the girl from the hockey match. She's not competing this time, so she could probably help you out."

            The girl, Tiger, skated over. "Hey, Nosedive," she called in hello. "What's up?"

            "Nothing much," he assured. "You got any spare time to teach me some tricks?"

            "Sure," she agreed, smiling.

            Justin waved. "I'm out. Have fun, dudes."

            "Bye, Justin." Tiger turned back to Nosedive. "Okay, time for a serious workout, hockey-boy. Prepare to sweat."

            "I've only got till about six thirty," he warned.

            She shrugged. "Three hours. Not bad. I can still give you a run for your money."

            "Please do."

            The workout was the best thing that had happened to Nosedive for the past week. 

            It lasted nearly five and a half hours.

            Canard and Wildwing were at different stages of fury. 

            Wildwing was irate, but the anger was born more of worry than anything else.

            As Canard paced the Ready Room, toying absently with a small machine, his frustration at the teen mounted.

            Duke felt sorry for Nosedive as he came quietly into the Pond.

            Wildwing called his brother into the Ready Room.

            Nosedive finally realized that he was in serious trouble and shrank back slightly. "Uh…hi, Wing. What's up?"             Canard tossed something at him. The teen caught it and blinked down at his com. "Ooh…I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

            "Yes," Wildwing bit out harshly, "you are."

            "Um…what if I said I was sorry?"

            "What if I said you were _two hours_ late?" his brother responded. "What if I said you had us all worried but we couldn't get in _contact_ with you? Do you know _why_ we couldn't get in contact with you?"

            "Because…I didn't have my com?"

            "_Very_ good."

            "I'm sorry."

            "Sorry!" Wildwing exploded, throwing his hands in the air. "You're always sorry, Nosedive! You were sorry _last _time, and the time before _that_, and the time before _that, _and you were sorry the _first_ time you did this! Why aren't you getting it through your head that _sorry isn't good enough?"_

            The teen winced. "I'm _really_ sorry, Wing. I didn't mean to forget it."

            "And you didn't _mean_ to be late, but you _are!_ You probably didn't _mean_ for us to worry, but guess what? We _did!_ _All_ of us! Even _Phil!"_

            "I'm _sorry,_ Wildwing! I just forgot, it won't happen again, I _promise."_

            Wildwing's anger began to fizzle out at the remorseful expression on his brother's face. "Well…"

            He would have left it at that. Had it just been him and his little brother, he would have sighed and let him go with yet another warning, and Nosedive would have eventually forgotten his com again and the whole thing would have started over.

            But he was not alone.

            "Wait."

            Canard's serious tone caught and froze Nosedive, who turned around very slowly to meet the leader's eyes.

            He was in serious trouble.

            "This is the fourth time you've done this."

            "I know, Canard, and I'm-"

            "If you were sorry," the older duck interrupted, "you wouldn't do it anymore, but no matter how many times you say it, you keep forgetting."

            Nosedive shrugged, something in the pit of his stomach squirming. He hadn't been in trouble like this for years.

            "There's got to be a consequence, Nosedive."

            Consequences. How had he _known_ it was going to come to that?

            "Now, usually I'd just give you a workout, but that's not effective because you _like_ working out, and that's not the point. The point is to make you uncomfortable, put you in a situation you don't like so you won't forget your com again."

            Wildwing turned away miserably, which made serious concern blossom in the pit of Nosedive's stomach.

            He wasn't talking about…

            "So therefore…because there's really _nothing_ else to do…for the next two weeks…" Canard sighed, looking rather miserable himself but very determined. 

            "Nosedive, you're grounded."

AN: Erm….yeah. ^^;;;;; It gets worse. Please tune in next time for: The Next Chapter! *echo effect*

*sets out a chunk of dry ice in the shape of a pineapple and runs away* BE AS THE NINJA!

-Angel Baby 


	4. Part Four: Betrayal

AN: Well, it's midnight, so no long speeches tonight. Just the post. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: *zzZZzz*

        Part four: Betrayal 

                   I Quit

            Duke felt sorry for Nosedive. Three days into his grounding and the kid had already done just about everything there was to be done in the Pond twice. He was now so bored he was cleaning his room, which was a testament in and of itself. He had taken to showing his communicator to Wildwing and Canard every time he passed them in the hall, but whether it was in spite or because he was trying to nonverbally talk his way out of the grounding no one knew.

            Wildwing had been ready to let him off his punishment by the morning of day two. If he'd been by himself, Nosedive would be away doing whatever it was he did, probably without his com. Canard, however, was determined to see the grounding to its end, all two weeks of it.

            To fill the empty time, Nosedive threw himself wholly into his practice, spending hours on the ice after everyone else had gone. Though initially Canard had toyed with the idea of grounding the teen from video games as well, it became apparent that would have been inhumane. Even _with_ his video games he was bored.

            Duke found the teen sitting upside-down on the couch in the living room facing the TV, his head on the floor and his feet thrown over the back. A video game controller was held pointlessly in his right hand; the TV was off. 

            "What's goin' on?" the ex-thief asked, taking pity on the still figure.

            No response.

            Duke sat by Nosedive and pushed the teen's feet off the sofa, effectively dumping him onto the floor. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

            "Do you think it's possible for life to get any worse than it is right now?" the bedraggled younger duck asked, blinking slowly at the dots on the ceiling. 

            "What'd ya mean?"

            "Look at us. We're stranded on an alien planet _trillions_ of miles from our home, fighting a galactic invader whose race has no greater desire than to enslave us. We might not ever get home, and if we do it might still be under their control. For all we know, Puckworld is under total Saurian domination by now. And, personally, I'm grounded on top of all that. Can it get any worse?"

            "Sure," Duke assured, shrugging, watching the kid stare at the roof. "It can always get worse."

            "That's what people say, but how? I mean, eventually it's gotta get as bad as it can, right? That's when the saying switches to 'there's nowhere left to go but up.' So when is enough really enough? What's the bottom of the barrel?" 

            The ex-thief considered. "When all hope is lost," he said finally. "When you've done everything you can and it's still not working. Then it's time to either give up or pick a different line of attack. That's called survival."

            "Who defines hope?"

            "The individual. Hope for you and hope for me are two different things."

            "Why?"

            "Because I've seen more and done more. As a thief, I was in a lot of situations when the cops were outside waiting for me and all my equipment was breaking. Being caught for a thief is the end of hope, unless you're really good at escapes, then it's the evolution of hope instead of the abandon of it. Actually," he continued with a thoughtful glance at the teen, "I don't think I've ever truly given up all hope. It seems a little like losing, doesn't it?"

            Again, no reply. Then Nosedive sighed and asked, "What do you do when the world gangs up on you?"

            "Gang back," was the easy response. "There's strength in numbers, but only if the numbers are friends." There was another heavy sigh from the floor. Duke stood and stretched, prodding the teen's side with the toe of his shoe. "Get up," he ordered. 

            "Why?"

            "You ask too many questions. But if you must know, we're going to go work out."

            Nosedive, still sprawled on the floor, arched an eyebrow at the ex-thief. "I've already worked out twice today."

            "So make it three."

            "Why?"

            "There's that _word_ again! C'mon, kid, you don't got anything better ta do, right?"

            "I guess not," he admitted, standing. "What're we gonna work on?"

            A shrug. "Whatever we feel like, I guess."

            "Ok, then. Just asking."

            "Naturally."

            "Has anyone seen Nosedive?"

            Mallory looked up from cleaning her puck launcher to shrug at Wildwing's question. "Not for the past few hours."

            "Duke?"

            He shrugged as well. "We went our different ways after practicing."

            Wildwing checked his watched. "That's an hour and a half ago. What did you practice?"

            Duke winced, massaging a sore calf muscle. _"Everything."_

            The mask-wearing leader chose to leave it at that. "Well, if you see him, tell him I'm looking for him, ok?"

            "All right."

            "Why do you need him?" Mallory asked as Wildwing left the room.

            "Canard finally broke and said I could take him to see a movie."

            "That's nice. What're you going to see?"

            "Lord of the Rings."

            Duke stared at him. "That's a three-hour movie."

            "Yeah." He grinned. "I know."

            The ex-thief shook his head in disbelief. "Why would anyone want to _sit_ for three hours?"

            "It's supposed to be a classic book made into a really good movie. Dive's been saying he wants to see it."

            "Dive's been saying he'd see _anything_ as long as someone would take him," Mallory muttered, turning back to her puck launcher. Duke snickered. Shaking his head, Wildwing left to continue his search for his little brother. 

            Soon after he'd gone, Duke stood and slipped through the opposite door.

            Nosedive surveyed his discovery, feeling a touch of pride. This would work perfectly.

            Skating forward, he did two laps around his obstacle course to gain speed before actually attempting the tricks. 

            Duke made it just in time to see Nosedive, skating at brake-neck speeds along the edge of the roof of the Pond, leap into the air, turn a full one hundred eighty degrees, slide on the frames of his skates along the corner of the tiny wall, and leap off again to turn another one hundred eighty degrees, landing on the roof and continuing to skate. 

            The teen cheered softly to himself, completing another lap around the roof. 

            Finally he noticed that he wasn't alone and threw on the brakes, skidding to a horrified halt. "Duke!" he exclaimed. "What're you- I mean…uh, hi?"

            The ex-thief arched an eyebrow at the teen. "I think it's safe to assume that's not something you picked up from your brother."

            Nosedive winced. "Kinda…"

            "What's it called?"

            "The move or the actual sport?"

            "Both."

            "Well…the sport's known as inline skating or street skating and the move—a 180 into a grind into a 180—is known as a Louie-Louie. Well, kinda. Usually it's done on a curb or something, but you work with what you've got."

            "Of course."

            Nosedive fidgeted a while as Duke examined the makeshift street course. Rails for grinding, the high-sided stairwell to bounce the more complicated moves off, a relatively low wall…it was, in essence, perfect for the teen's purposes. 

            Not that his brother would see it that way.

            "Don't tell Wing," Nosedive burst out suddenly, startling Duke. "He thinks inline skating is only for juvenile delinquents, but it's not. It takes talent and determination. If that makes a teenager look like a punk, well, then, that's just a stereotype. Wildwing won't understand that, though, not at first, and Canard won't let me practice up here any more. _Please_ don't tell anyone!"

            "Is this what you've been doing all this time?"

            "Um…yeah, kinda."

            "Kinda?"

            Nosedive sighed. "Yes, this is what I've doing the last couple of weeks. Learning to inline skate."

            "You any good?"

            Surprised, the teen looked up at Duke, who was actually grinning. 

            "Kid, come on, look at who you're talking to here. Doing the things that others wouldn't got me into the Brotherhood. Not that you're in a gang, but seriously. Do you think _I'm_ gonna rat on you?"

            Almost immediately Nosedive visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Duke."

            "Hey, no sweat. It's not like you're doing anything illegal, right?"

            "Right. Exactly."

            "So, how bout it?"

            Nosedive blinked at him. "How bout what?"

            "You any good?"

            The teenager grinned slowly. "Maybe."

            "Wanna show me?"

            "Definitely."

            "It's all a lot cooler on half- and quarter-pipes," Nosedive assured, walking beside Duke as the duo made their way back into the Pond. "I'm just a recreational skater; it's the aggressive skaters that do the really great stuff."

            Thoroughly impressed, Duke only shook his head. "I can't imagine it being more amazing than what you just did. In fact, anything else would seem physically impossible."

            "Are you kidding? Duke, you've got to meet Justin and his friends! They do the most totally mind-boggling tricks! Hand plants, 360s, 540s, Alley-oops, corkscrews…you've just got to see."

            "Corkscrews, huh? Kid, you make me feel very old and outdated."

            "That's because you _are_ old and outdated."

            "Show some respect or I won't tell you why your brother was looking for you."

            Nosedive's eyes widened in surprise. "Wing was looking for me? Am I in _trouble?"_

            "No," Duke laughed, "actually just the opposite."

            "What?"

            "He talked Canard into letting him take you to Lord of the Rings."

            _"What?"_

            "Yeah. He was looking for you about an hour ago. Hope you didn't miss your showing."

            Nosedive dashed away, somehow knowing instinctually where his brother would be, and Duke's laughter echoed after him.

            Canard suppressed a smile at the exuberance displayed by the youngest member of his team. It was amazing what a single three-hour movie could do for the half-pint's disposition. 

            Nosedive scrounged through the cabinets, totally oblivious to the figure watching him from the corner. When he turned, armed filled with fixings for a sandwich, and found Canard standing silently behind him, he yelped and almost dropped the food.

            "You scared me!"

            Canard cocked a small half-smile. "I noticed."

            "Why're you hiding in the corner, anyway?" A little irritated, the teenager dropped the food on the counter and began hastily making a snack. 

            "I wasn't hiding. I was actually waiting for the coffee to finish." Duke's coffee addiction had been one of the very first earthen things Canard picked up. He arched an eyebrow, pouring himself a cup of the liquefied caffeine. "A better question would be: Why are you so jumpy?"

            "We cannot get out," Nosedive quoted darkly. "They are coming."

            "What are you _talking _about?"

            "You haven't seen Lord of the Rings yet, have you?"

            "No. I haven't."

            "Man," the teen sighed pityingly, "you're missing out."

            "Watch it, squirt," Canard warned, stirring inordinate amounts of sugar and cream into his coffee, "you almost missed out too. I wasn't going to let you go."

            "Speaking of which." Nosedive pulled himself onto the counter, squishing his sandwich between his hands and settling himself for what might turn out to be a long talk. "Why did you?"

            "Wildwing."

            "All by himself? Dude, that was pretty decent of him…"

            "Decent isn't the word I would have used. More like generous. You're _grounded._ You really shouldn't have gone."

            Nosedive frowned slightly, picking at the crust of his sandwich. "Well, if you were so against it, why'd you buckle? Why not just tell Wing to stuff it?"

            Canard arched an eyebrow at him, sipping at his coffee. "Obviously you have never been on the receiving end of his petitions. He doesn't quite _beg,_ but he presents your case well enough that it's almost illegal to refuse him. It was either let you go or be debated at all day. Honestly, it wasn't worth it." The teenager was still frowning a little, looking mildly concerned as he nibbled his snack, so Canard added, "He really loves you more than anything else in existence. He knows you hate this punishment; that's why he worked so hard to get you a temporary jailbreak. You're in his debt now; you should find a way to thank him." The leader left quietly, still drinking gently from his hot cup.

            Nosedive sat on the counter a long time, no longer hungry, thinking of the inevitability of his situation and the pain it would undoubtedly put his brother through. He had to find a way to distance Wildwing, for his own good. Then again, the process of distancing would probably hurt the older duck anyway. In the end the question was one of many shades and depths of meaning.

            In the long run, which was kinder: pushing Wildwing away and saving heartache in the future or allowing him to remain close and knowing that he would self-destruct?

            To be or not to be…

            Nosedive stormed away from the Ready Room and Mallory and the questions she had been demanding he answer.

            What was he doing with his spare time, how angry was he with Canard, what had he been doing _before_ he was grounded, who had he been spending all his time with, why, was he really _that_ afraid of Dryden, why, hadn't he been in a camp, what was its name, what did he _mean_ he didn't remember?

            All he'd wanted to do was find Tanya and offer some assistance. Even being electrocuted was better than doing _nothing_ all day _again._

            Why was Mallory so interested, anyway? She'd never shown any interest in his life before, except when he'd played a prank on her, and then she'd only been interested in his life to end it. 

            "It's because I'm _grounded_," Nosedive growled to himself, flopping on the bed of his immaculate and reorganized room. Everything was either in alphabetical or numerical order. If tomorrow ended up being anything like _today,_ he'd re-reorganize. Maybe order of use or color or something…anything to take up time.

            There was a soft knock on the door. "Nosedive?"

            The teen sat up, confused. "Tanya?"

            She came in hesitantly, holding something behind her back. "H-hi."

            He was immediately worried. She only stuttered if she was pressed for time or really nervous. "Hi."

            Silence. Finally she gathered her courage and rushed, "I came here to see if you wanted something to do here are the upgraded blue prints to the Migrator do you want to help?"

            Three sentences mushed into one, but he got the general point and smiled, taking the offered papers and spreading them over his perfectly made bed. (To entertain himself he'd bounced quarters off it; he bet _Mallory's _bed couldn't bounce quarters.) "Wow! Sweet! Check it out, do you know how _fast_ the Migrator's gonna be able to go now?"

            She shrugged, looking pleased. "Somewhere around two hundred fifty miles an _hour_ once we get this upgrade in. You wanna give me a hand?"

            "Usually I'd make a stinging sarcastic comeback before agreeing, but this time I'll skip it and just say: sure! Let's get working!"

            The work on the Migrator took up the rest of his day, which was _wonderful._ Wildwing found it entirely too amusing when he strolled into Tanya's workroom to find the genius sipping tea and reading a magazine while his baby brother lay on a creeper under their land-bound vehicle, working diligently as Tanya called orders to him. 

            The two exhausted every subject possible at least twice. Tanya was able to find out more about the teen's out-of-Pond activities than anyone else by asking simple questions and just listening to him talk and talk. He loved what he did and had been subconsciously looking for someone that would listen to him without judgment. Just as Nosedive finished with his work on the Migrator, Tanya's innocent questions took a bad turn.

            "So how do you feel about Canard being back?"

            Tightening a bolt on the underside of the vehicle, Nosedive froze. After a moment he continued to work, not replying.

            "I'm only asking because you, y'know, started disappearing from the Pond right after he got here. Inline skating must take up a lot of time, but you could've started it as soon as we got here. It's been two years, though. Why just all of a sudden?"

            "No reason," the teen stated shortly. 

            "But doesn't Canard's presence have _anything_ to do with it?"

            He'd didn't want to lie if he didn't have to; instead he settled for silence again.

            She pressed on almost blindly, as though unaware that they were on a topic he didn't want to pursue. "I mean, I know that he's taking up a lot of Wildwing's time now, but is that why you're outside so much now? Or, at least, why you were?"

            Yes. In all honestly, that was one of the main reasons he'd been spending so much time outside. To wean his brother so when the inevitable finally happened he wouldn't be shattered. Someone would be able to help, someone who had always been more like a brother than a friend, anyway. But of course Nosedive couldn't say that to _Tanya._ So he replied instead, "Not really. I just wanted to be out."

            "Yeah, but-"

            "I was just out!" Nosedive pulled himself out from under the Migrator and wiped his greasy hands on a dirty rag he'd tossed over his shoulder earlier. "There's nothing more to it than that."

            Tanya blinked, surprised at the outburst. "Sorry, Dive, I was just asking."

            He frowned at his hands, still scrubbing. "Everyone's just _asking. _All the time, they're just _asking._ Why did you do this, what made you act like that, how come you've just started this _now?_ There's no reason other than because I _felt_ like it. I'm a teenager; teenagers aren't _supposed_ to do things for a reason. I never have before. I'm impulsive, remember? Wildwing and Canard tell me that all the time. So now I'm supposed to be impulsive on the surface with a multidimensional purpose underneath? I don't think so."

            Now the genius frowned slightly, concerned. "I'm sorry, Nosedive, I didn't mean to, y'know, get you all ir-irri…worked-up. I wasn't trying to upset you."

            "Yeah, well…I guess it's the boredom. I seem to be irritated a lot. It's not your fault. Look, I…I gotta go." He tossed the rag into a bin of the same by her desk and left the room, calling "Bye" as he went.

            Tanya stared at the door a long time after he'd gone, thinking about the wonderful time they'd been having and wondering how it could possibly have been _that easy_ to drive him away.

            "It was only one question," she muttered, turning back to her deck.

            "What was only one question?"

            She looked back at the figure that had materialized by the Migrator.

            "Oh, hi, Canard."

            He looked very serious, as he usually did. "What question?"

            Tanya told him.

            Nosedive landed hard on his back and sighed, glaring at the ceiling. "I've gotta get outta here!" Hauling himself to his feet, he switched his skates back to blades and slid onto the ice. He did a circuit of the ice, gaining as much speed as possible before cutting across to zip toward the break in the Plexiglas above the wall at the door to the player's bench. Right before he would have slammed into the barrier, he leapt into the air, simultaneously grabbing his skates and changing them into inline skates as he spun a full three hundred sixty degrees. He released the skates, setting up for a perfect landing.

            Then his hair blew across his face and he was blinded. 

            I can't see where I'm going! Panic!

            Once again he slammed into the ground and bounced.

            Cursing, he rose. 

            "I've _got_ to get out of here!"

            Three more times he attempted the trick and three more times he failed.

            "Let's try once more," he encouraged himself, flashing around the ice. "Just one more time, and if I don't get it, then I'll try again."

            He flew across the rink, leapt into the air, grabbed his skates as he changed them, spun three hundred sixty degrees, released the skates, set up for the end, and nailed the landing.

            "Yes!" he cheered, rocketing into the greater Pond area. "Yes!" Then he plowed into a figure and crashed to the ground. Whoever he hand run into ended up getting squashed beneath him. And the trick was ruined. "Damnit!" Nosedive cursed, pushing himself into a sitting position with a little help from the person who had destroyed his victory lap. He finally got a look at the figure and gulp. "Eep!" he yelped, scrambling back. "Wildwing!"

            The older brother frowned, propping himself up on his elbows. "What did you just say?"

            Oops. "Uh…hi?"

            "Strike one. What'd you say?" 

            Canard was standing behind Wildwing, snickering. He mouthed the word _busted._

            Nosedive winced. "Dangit?" he offered. 

            "_Nose_dive!"

            "I'm _sorry!_ You just messed up my trick!"

            "So you _cursed_?"

            "Everyone else curses sometimes!"

            Wildwing sighed, standing and hauling his brother up as well. "_You're_ not everyone, you're Nosedive, a _teenager_ who shouldn't be using swear words, even if they _are_ from an alien planet."

            "But you ruined my trick…"

            "That's not the point."

            Nosedive crossed his arms, eyes slightly narrowed. "Then what's the _point?"_

            "The point is, you shouldn't cuss."

            "No matter what?"

            "No matter what."

            "_You_ curse."

            An uncomfortable pause.

            "It doesn't matter if _he_ cusses," Canard interjected when Wildwing would have lost his momentum. 

            "Why not?" the teen demanded. "Why should it be one way for me and another for everyone else?"

            "Because everyone else can take care of themselves and _you _are still a minor."

            "Oh, so being a minor makes me less important?"

            "Not less important," Canard corrected, "just different. None of us are still in the growing process."

            "I thought people grew every day of their lives."

            "Maybe, but this is a fundamental thing."

            "And everyone else has their fundamentals down?"

            "Yes."

            "Were you there as they grew up?"

            "What? No."

            "Then how do you _know?"_

            "I…Nosedive, that's not the point!"

            "So what's the point?"

            "The point is _still_ that you shouldn't curse!"

            "Well, _damn_," the teen said, glaring, "wish I'd figured that out sooner."

            Wildwing winced, knowing that had been a bad idea. If there was one thing Canard couldn't stand, it was anything he perceived as insubordination.

            "You're treading on dangerous ground, Nosedive," Canard hissed in warning.

            "Oh, I'm scared." All of Nosedive's pent-up tension and energy and disappointment was bubbling to the surface in the form of obstinate, rebellious sarcasm, which was one of the worse things he could do. "What're you gonna do? _Ground_ me? Been there. Done that."

            "You little _punk!_"

            "Well, thank you, Canard. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

            In about five seconds, the older duck was going to lose his temper. Wildwing saw all the signs of a total explosion and knew that something had to be done. He'd stepped back and out of the way of Nosedive and Canard's verbal volley, but now he approached Canard, gripping his arm tightly. "Nosedive," he began calmly, looking at the glaring teen, "why don't you head to your room for a few hours?"

            "No thanks, _Wing,_ I like it here. I've got to try my trick again anyway."

            "I wasn't offering."

            "Of course not," Nosedive exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he stalked off.

            "I am going to put him in chains and throw him in the brig!" Canard exploded as soon as the teen was gone. "I'll lock him in there until we defeat Dragonius, then I'll drag him home and let your parents yell at him a good _long_ time! Then _I'll_ yell at him a good long time! Then, just for good measure, I'll make _you_ yell at him!"

            "Calm down," Wildwing soothed. "Let's go hit some pucks around to blow off some steam."

            "Wanna know what would _really_ make me calm down? Watching your brother do some hard, manual labor, that's what." But he followed his friend onto the ice anyway.

            Wildwing didn't hold anything Canard had said against him, knowing that he wasn't thinking. Normally, he would never have wanted to subject the youngest member to manual labor. When he was thinking rationally, he was totally aware of all the hard work Nosedive had done in the camps and never wanted to see him do anything remotely like it again. They had both been there when the teen was doctored after being saved. Canard had been most adamant about his hate of the Saurian work camps. 

If he'd been thinking, he also wouldn't have mentioned their parents. He knew very well that Nosedive and Wildwing's adopted parents had been killed in the invasion, even though Nosedive didn't. Two slipups he would kick himself for later, once he'd calmed down. 

            Of course, first he had to calm down.

            Canard approached Nosedive's door almost hesitantly, glancing back at Wildwing uncertainly. "Do I have to do this?"

            The white duck shrugged. "It was your idea. _You're_ the one who felt awful, not me."

            After a sigh, Canard straightened his shoulders and knocked. When no one answered, he knocked again, then said, "Nosedive, it's Canard. I just…I wanted to…apologize for earlier…Look, can you open the door?" Still nothing.

            Trading confused glances, Wildwing stepped past his friend to knock on the door himself. "Dive? You there?"

            "Where _else_ is he gonna be?" Canard whispered.

            Wildwing frowned at him, then turned back to the door. "Dive, I'm coming in, ok?"

            There was no answer, so Wildwing keyed in his brother's code and peeked in the room. 

            Canard saw him wince and close his eyes in disappointment. "He's not there, is he?"      

            "No. He's not."

            "Well then, where is he?"

            "I don't know."

            "Does he have his com?"

            Wildwing sighed. "Probably." He checked for his brother's location and winced again. 

            "Not in the Pond, is he?"           

            "No."

            "Well, then. Let's go get him."

            Two teens standing at the top of a half-pipe clapped as their friend landed a beautiful Indi Grab. "So anyway," the stranger of the teens said, continuing a previous conversation, "Canard—my bro's best bud—blew the whole thing out of proportion."

            "What's the final verdict?" Justin asked, putting on his helmet.

            "Two _weeks_."

            "Aw, dude," the human teen sighed in compassion, "that sucks. How far are you into it?"

            "Five _days."_

            "Sucks to be you."

            Nosedive snorted. "Tell me about it."    

            The third skater, Tiger, landed by the alien and arched an eyebrow at him. "You gonna skate or what?"

            "Or what," he assured. "I'm already dead if they realize I'm not in my room."

            "Come _on,_" Justin urged, handing Nosedive a helmet, "one final farewell session, then you can go and be all grounded for as long as you want."

            "Well…"

            That was how Wildwing found his precious baby brother, escaped from his punishment, inverted on the far end of a spine ramp. Nosedive dropped back onto the ramp and flew down and up, performing a corkscrew that he'd only just mastered over the space between the two half-pipes and continuing down. He finally spotted Wildwing half way through his fakie 360, which, naturally, royally screwed up a landing that would have been simple otherwise.

            Tumbling to a stop at the base of the half-pipe, he stared in mute horror at Wildwing and Canard.

            Tiger stood on the top of the pipe, laughing. "You blinded again, Dive?" she called, not yet having noticed the other two ducks. She and Justin skated to his side. "That was a serious fall."

            "Bacon in the pan," Justin agreed, helping Nosedive stand. 

            The Puckworldian teen never took his eyes off his brother.

            Finally Justin noticed and winced. "Uh…Wildwing, I presume?" 

            "Good job, Watson," Tiger muttered, backing off.

            "What are you _doing?"_ Wildwing demanded, eyes narrowed at his little brother.

            "I was just explaining why I had been missing the past few days."

            "In the _air?_"

            "Uh, no. That was…um…a farewell session?"

            "A _what?"_

            "Dude, he was just skating one last time," Justin offered.

            "We actually made him do it," Tiger added.

            "That's not the _point,_" Canard bit out harshly. His tone of voice was just the type that riled teenagers and made them feel very rebellious. For a moment, the three teens stood united against him, irritated at what they all saw as an Adult. 

            Then Nosedive realized what was about to happen. He and Canard were going to get into another argument that would escalate into a screaming match. There was no way he would suffer through humiliation like that.

            "Come on," Wildwing interrupted quickly. "Let's go back to the Pond. We can work through this there."

            "Fine," Nosedive hissed, furious for no apparent reason. He pushed past his brother and Canard, stalking angrily to the Migrator. 

            Justin and Tiger traded a concerned glance. They'd never seen Nosedive so irate before.

            They had the distinct impression that whatever had been bad before was about to get much worse.

            "What were you _thinking?_ Stars, Nosedive, you're _grounded!"_

            "I _know,"_ the teen sighed.

            Wildwing glared at his little brother, sitting at the table looking properly meek. "You _know?_ Then why'd you _leave?"_

            "I had to tell them what happened. They're my _friends_, I couldn't let them worry."

            "Your _friends?_ You haven't even known them a month!"

            Nosedive frowned at a spot on the table. "That means they aren't my friends?"

            "Not good enough friends for you to be skipping out on punishment to _explain_ things, no."

            The teen's attention shifted to Canard, who had made this statement. "And _you're_ supposed to be the expert on friendship?"

            "Nosedive!" Wildwing cried, horrified. "That's not-"

            "That's not _what?_ Nice? Well, it's the truth!"

            "I don't care if you don't like me," Canard told him flatly. "You can _hate_ me if you want to. But you _will_ obey my orders and you _will _respect me."

            "Respect is _earned._ You haven't done _anything_ to earn my respect since you _got_ here!"

            "Nothing?" Now the older duck was beginning to get mad, which was never a good sign. Not that Wildwing noticed. This time, Wildwing was easily as angry as Canard, if not more so.

            "Do you know what he's done for you since he got back?" Nosedive's brother demanded, glaring, hands clenched into fists.

            "Grounded me," was the flippant response.

            "More than that! He's watched out for you on missions, checked things out to make sure you're not in danger, taken care of you whenever I can't-"

            "I don't need to be taken care of!" Nosedive yelled, jumping up from his chair, hands balled into fists exactly like his brother. "I'm not a little kid anymore!"

            "You're _acting_ like one!"

            "Oh yeah? I'm not arguing by myself, so what does that make you two?"

            "_Baby_sitters," Canard growled, glaring. "It makes us _babysitters,_ watching out for a little ducking who wants to be grown up but _isn't _and _won't_ be until he can get his _act_ together and pull his head out of the clouds!"

            "My head isn't in the clouds!"

            "Yes it is! If it weren't, you'd know something about what we're facing now, which you obviously _don't_ because even _you_ aren't dumb enough to cause internal problems when the team is up against the worst evil we've ever faced in our entire lives. If your head weren't in the clouds, you'd put some _effort_ into solving this problem instead of adding to it. If you paid even a _shred_ of attention to what goes on around here, you'd realize that our entire existence is in jeopardy and all you're doing is…is _helping_ that psychotic maniac! But you don't care, do you? You don't care that we're going up against _Dryden_ and all you can do is sputter in fear and tremble whenever we see him!"

            "You _bastard,"_ Nosedive breathed, shoulders shaking. "You don't know anything—_anything!_ Not about me, not about what's going on, not about D-Dryden, _nothing!_ And if _that's_ all you've got to yell about, you can stuff it! I'm _out_ of here!"

            "I'm not done!" Canard shouted, springing forward to stop the teen. 

            "Well _I'm_ done with _you!"_

            "Nosedive," Wildwing scolded, grabbing his brother's forearm as he passed, "wait."

            "No! Let go, Wildwing!"

            "Stop struggling!"

            "No!"

            "You're grounded! You can't go _out!"_

            "_Watch_ me!"

            They scuffled briefly, Wildwing finally grabbing both of his much shorter baby brother's arms. "Listen to me!" he demanded.

            "Why should I? You never listen to me!"

            "Yes I do!"

            "No, you don't! You never have, _never!"_

            "Would you just stop struggled and _listen!"_

            "_No. _I'm getting _out_ of here!"

            "Nosedive, you can't _leave!"_

            "How much longer am I stuck here?_"_ the teen hissed.

            "The rest of your natural life," Canard growled back.

            "Give me a _break!"_ He tried to pull away from his brother, but Wildwing wouldn't let go.

            "Nosedive, you have to stay!"

            "_Why?"_

            "Because you're _grounded!"_

            "_Damn_ the grounding and damn _you!"_

            Wounded, Wildwing's grip on his brother slackened.

            With a growl Nosedive wrenched away and ran from the building.

            "Dude. I can't believe you _did_ that."

            Nosedive scowled at his helmet, sitting on top of a half-pipe, his legs hanging into it. "What else was I _supposed_ to do? Canard doesn't know _anything_."

            "Yeah," Tiger observed, sitting between the two boys, "but what're ya gonna do now? After a show of backbone like that, it'll be hard going back to the way things were. Adults don't like backbones. I should know; I'm always standing up against Adults. Gets my parents kinda upset, but hey. Sometimes they're Adults, too, so I stand up to them."

            Adults (with a capitol A) were a group of people for Tiger. They were the ones responsible for the bad rap teenagers got for no apparent reason, the ones who refused to give the benefit of the doubt, the ones who assumed all teens were punks and trouble. 

            Right now, Wildwing and Canard were Adults, and Tiger was proud of what Nosedive had done, though the duck himself was actually feeling rather sick.

            At least he'd finally made up his mind.

            "I don't _want_ things to go back to the way they were," he insisted, still frowning, thumping the half-pipe with the heel of his skate. "I want things to change. I'm not a duckling anymore and I think it's time they all realized that."

            Justin knew where the conversation was going before it got there. His eyes narrowed slightly as he wondered if _Nosedive_ knew where it was going.

            But of course he did. That was the point.

            Tiger, for her part, seemed excited. "So what're you gonna do now?"

            "Actually, Tiger, I need your help for what I plan to do."

            "Yeah? What'd ya need?"

            He needed Wildwing a safe distance away. He needed Canard to already be placing himself between the brothers when the final tragedy happened. He needed…

            "I need you to help me rebel." 

            Wildwing was pacing the interior halls of the Pond, yelling at himself. Whenever Canard was in range, he yelled at him about what they had done.

            Canard was smart enough not to take it to heart. He knew the older brother was beside himself with worry and a very guilty conscience. 

            Truthfully, Canard wasn't feeling too pleased with himself either. How could he have let things escalate like that with the small fry? Picking at his terror of Dryden had been a low blow. _Especially_ if he'd spent any time at all in the Hell camp. It was downright _cruel_ to bring it up if that was the case.

            "I'll apologize as soon as he gets back," the leader told himself, now reduced to pacing in Wildwing's wake. "I'll tell him I was wrong and I'm sorry and I'll revoke his grounding and I'll call the battle between us off and-" His sentence was cut short as he plowed into Wildwing, who had stopped his pacing suddenly and without warning. "Ow!" he complained. "Wing, why'd you-"

            The answer was standing defiantly framed in the doorway.

            "_Nosedive,"_ he gasped, "what _happened?"_

            "Don't you like it?" came the dismissive response.

            The answer to that was obvious. Wildwing's face was twisted in betrayed pain and horror.

            Canard peeked over his friend's shoulder and felt a shock run down his spine.

            He was wrong about their battle being over. A proclamation of war was standing before him.

            Nosedive had changed his clothes. Presumably his Mighty Ducks gear was in the backpack held lightly in his left hand. The only thing he wore that had once been given to him were his shoes, which could alternately be ice or inline skates. Those he probably would never give up. But his _clothes…_He wore baggy jeans and a tight white long-sleeved shirt that sported the logo of some company called 'Fox Gear'. Sunglasses held strands of hair away from his young face, which was cold and detached. The biggest change was his hair. He'd cut it, or had it cut, to his chin. It was slightly ragged at the edges, as though whoever had done it hadn't taken the time to tidy everything up.

            Nosedive flipped the sunglasses down to hide his indifferent eyes. "They're Oakley's," he said flatly. "Nice, aren't they?"

            Wildwing was hurting, and Nosedive knew it, and he didn't _care. _Canard counted to ten very, very slowly.

            "Nosedive," the white duck began in a strangled, pained voice, "what did you _do?"_

            "Something I've wanted to do for a while."

            "_Why?"_

            A shrug. "Because."

            Finally it was too much for Canard, who strode forward angrily to grab a handful of Nosedive's new shirt. "What's your game, Nosedive? Are you trying to hurt your brother because you're _mad?_ You're getting even at the wrong person. _I'm_ the one you have a problem with, not him!"

            "Get a life, Canard."

            "What's the _matter_ with you?" He shook the teen for emphasis.

            Nosedive gripped the older duck's wrist until he almost winced. "Back off."

            "Not until you tell me what's going on here!"

            "You're smart." He pushed Canard away. "Figure it out." Brushing past the irate leader, he headed toward the interior of the Pond.

            "Don't walk away from me!" The teen continued as though he'd never spoken. "Hey! Get back here!" Canard lunged forward, grabbing the back of Nosedive's shirt. "As long you're on _my_ team, you'll listen to me!"

            With a growl the teen whirled, jerking out of the older duck's hold and chucking the bag into his stomach, knocking him off balance. His sunglasses clattered to the ground. "I'm not listening to you ever again! There's your gear. Now stay out of my face."

            Canard, sitting on the floor, stared dumbly at the bag in his lap.

            As Nosedive stalked past him, Wildwing asked in a dying voice, "Why did you give him back your gear, little brother?"

            For a moment, the teen almost broke, almost threw himself into his brother's arms and babbled everything that was wrong, everything that was happening. Then his resolve kicked in and he smirked, bending to pick up his dropped glasses. "Haven't you figured it out yet, O fearless co-leader? Or is it fearless ex-leader? Guess I haven't gotten it straight." He slipped the glasses over his eyes. "Not that it matters."

            "Nosedive…what are you _saying_?"

            "You're so _slow._ Here, I'll spell it out for you."

            Duke, followed by Mallory, Tanya and Grin, appeared through the door for a newly instated afternoon practice in time to hear Nosedive's final declaration before he sauntered past them:

            "I quit."

AN: You're gonna kill me, aren't ya?


	5. Part Five: Shifting Gears

AN: O.O …Erm, whoops? Seriously, I'm sorry the wait was so long, but, believe it or not, I'm a full-time college student with a part-time job. A girl's got her priorities! And, unfortunately, mine clashed rather directly with my mom's, and hers won. So finals came first. ^^;; Gomen ne? Anyway, here ya go! Enjoy!

I rewrote one piece of this. Can you pick it out?

Disclaimer: Er…I'm totally broke?

Part five: Shifting gears

My Secret Past

            Duke frowned at the teenager as he shoved his way past in the hall. "Watch where you're going, kid!" he called after him.

            "I wouldn't have to if you'd just move."

            "Hey!" The ex-thief darted after Nosedive to grab his arm. "What's your problem?"

            "My problem," he returned, eyes narrowed at Duke, newly short hair flashing gold in the soft light, "is people like _you_ who try to tell me what to do. I'm smart, even if none of _you_ seem to realize it, and I've been taking care of myself for a while. I don't need you leaning over my shoulder all the time!"

            "Geez, kid, I was just worried!"

            "Well, don't bother. I don't need anyone to worry about me. And I'm _not_ a kid!"

            Duke shrugged, growing cross with Nosedive's hostile attitude. "Fine."

            Nosedive glared once more for good measure before storming away. 

            "What's with _his _attitude?" Mallory asked, coming from her room to join Duke in the hall.

            He looked at her miserably. "Hell if I know, sweetheart."

            "Hey! Hey, Nosedive! Wait a sec!"

            The teen turned, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes, face cold.        "What?" he demanded, impatient.

            Tanya blinked, taken slightly aback. "I, uh…just wanted to know why you're so late to practice. It's almost eight and…and you're not even ready," she realized, taking in his baggy jeans, loose shirt and backpack. 

            "My, aren't _you_ perceptive," he sneered, smirking.

            Her face was naturally expressive; he saw instantly that he'd stung her. "S-sorry, Nosedive…aren't you practicing today?"

            "Why should I?" he sighed. "It won't do me any good _now._"

            "Why not?" she asked, surprised. "Don't you think practice makes perfect?"

            "Sure, but that still doesn't do _me_ any good."

            "B-but…for the team's sake…"

            "What team?" he scoffed. "I quit, remember?" Then he was gone, the door of the Pond slamming behind him.

            "It's ok," Canard reassured her, skating over. "It's just…it's probably just a faze he's going through."

            Tanya tried to smile but failed. Nosedive had been like a little brother to her; why was he so angry?

            Every time Wildwing entered a room Nosedive was in, the teen left. No matter what he had been doing, he dropped it and evacuated. Only once had the older brother managed to get close. Nosedive was sitting at the table, eating a salad and reading a comic, generally not paying attention.

            Wildwing crept up behind him silently, desperate to be near him, even if it was only for a little while.

            Nosedive had sensed his approach but been unable to move.

            Neither of them had been prepared for the total system shock being separated like this would cause. Since the day the younger duck had been born it was just the two of them, even with parents, even when they were apart.

            Except once.

            That was why Nosedive didn't move as Wildwing reached forward and hesitantly ran a few fingers lightly through his little brother's short hair. 

            "I would have cut it for you," he murmured, more to himself than to Nosedive. "I always did before…I would have cut it any way you wanted." For a few more moments he toyed with the hair, turning it over between his fingers, then he dropped it as though he'd been burned and quickly left.

            Nosedive practically ran to his bedroom, fighting the howling agony burning in his chest, never knowing his brother was doing the same thing in his own quarters.

            Justin watched Nosedive self-destruct. He knew the signs, recognized them from a time in his life when he'd done the same things. Maybe not for the same reasons, but the exact same things. The alien teen was pushing his brother and makeshift family away so violently it was actually like screaming for help. Of course, only those who had done the same could hear the call. 

            He had to confront Nosedive's brother, that much was certain, but what could he say? "Hi, I'm Justin, one of Nosedive's new friends. Your brother's destroying himself for reasons that are totally beyond me. Just thought you'd want to know."

            Not the best way to start a conversation.

            "What's the absolute definition of rebellion?" Nosedive was asking Tiger contemplatively.

            The two were sitting cross-legged on the top of a picnic table, playing five card stud as Justin stair-bashed behind them, going up and down the massive set as many ways as he could think of.

            Tiger considered both her hand and her response. "Well, let's see. Cutting your hair was a big step, if it's true you've had it that way for years. Mmm…four cards."

            "Let's see the ace." She flashed it at him: ace of spades. "It's true," he assured as he dealt her new cards. "Dealer takes one."

            "Damn. You've got a good hand, don't you?"

            He grinned. "Okay, so let's look at rebellion as a whole. What are general definitions of rebellion?"

            "Hmm. Doing stuff other people see as unusually dangerous."

            "Like hardcore skating. What've you got?"

            "Exactly. Two pair, Jacks high."

            "Ha, full house."

            "Loser, that's the fifth hand you've won."

            "In a row," he reminded her. "Wanna play something else?"

            "Like what?"

            "Jacks or better, trips to win?"

            She laughed, throwing her cards at him. "I don't even know what that means!"

            "Fine. How about War?"

            "Nah, let's play Go Fish."

            "With two people?"

            "Sure. Besides, Justin'll come over and play in a bit, he just has to realize he's bored."

            Catching her comment, Justin snorted. Bored of skating? Impossible. 

            "I'm beginning to think you're avoiding my question," Nosedive confessed, shuffling the cards.

            Tiger blinked. "What question?"

            The pale Puckworldian rolled his eyes, dealing her seven cards. "What's the absolute perfect way to show your rebellion?"

            "Oh, that." She shrugged, organizing her hand. "It depends on the person trying to be rebellious and who against." She laid down a match, then frowned at Nosedive's three. "You're cheating."

            "I am not. Okay, so what would you do to rebel against an older brother and his group of friends?"

            "Still depends. What kind of people are they and why are you rebelling? I'm telling you, it's impossible to get that many pairs on the first try! Got any twos?"

            "Go fish. They're all very…overprotective. You know, 'Oh poor little Nosedive, young and innocent, can't take care of himself,' the whole nine yards. Got any aces?"

            "You bastard, you _are_ cheating!" she accused, handing her newly drawn card over. "With a group like that, you've got to do something very wild, something to show them that, while you may be someone who has to be watched out _for,_ you no longer need to be watched _over._ It has to be a _huge_ thing, though. Any fours?"

            "Finally, you got one." He handed the card to her. "So what's something huge I could do?"

            Tiger shrugged. "Got me."

            "I sure do," he agreed, laying down two more pairs.

            "That's not legal and I'm not playing with you anymore!" She tossed her cards into his lap. "There's no _way_ you just _happened_ to get that card."

            "You're right." He grinned, slipping some cards from his sleeve.

            "Rat!" she accused, tackling him.

            Nosedive laughed, easily fending her off and clamoring from the table. "Actually, I'm a duck. You might want to look into getting your eyes checked."

            Tiger, very mature at all costs, stuck her tongue out at him.

            At that moment, Justin skated over. "Hey, Dive, you gonna hang around and meet my coach? I'm sure he'd kill to have you on his side."

            "No thanks," Nosedive declined, making a face. "I just got off a team, I don't want to compete again so soon."

            "You gonna hang around anyway?"

            The alien teen sighed, shrugging. "Nah, I've gotta walk back. It'll take a while, and I'm not interested in doing it at night, especially since I've turned in my puck launcher."

            "Hey, that's it!" Tiger exclaimed, smacking him on the back. "Two birds with one stone! Pardon the expression," she added, remembering her audience.

            Nosedive waved the formality off. "What are you talking about?"

            "I just realized the solution to both your problems!"

            "What problems?"

            "A way to show off your new bad ass attitude and get around without walking all at the same time! You've got loads of money, right?"

            He shrugged. "I've been a top player in the NHL for two years. Yeah, I'd say I have a bit of money."

            "Well, then, there you go!" She slapped his back again. "Easy as pie!"

            "I like pie," Justin offered.

            Nosedive ignored him. "Tiger, speak English. What are you _talking_ about?"

            "Ok, how's this: Have you ever heard of a café racer?"

            And Nosedive smiled.

            "I can't stand it any longer," Canard announced, standing and narrowing his eyes at his best friend. "You've been moping around for the past week and a half. I know Nosedive's new attitude is getting to you, but you've got to decide that enough is enough all ready! He's just going through a phase or something! He'll get _over_ it, I promise. Meanwhile, you've got to keep your spirits up. You're depressing to be around!"

            Wildwing sighed, slumping further into his seat, staring balefully at the tabletop. "You're probably right," he admitted, rubbing his face harshly. "But I can't _help_ it. He _hates_ me; I _know _he does. It's just so…it's like everything I've ever fought for and lived for suddenly loathes my very presence. He feels betrayed, but why? What'd I _do?_ Why won't he just _tell_ me and get it over with? I'd rather be screamed at than given the cold shoulder. I'd rather have him tell me flat-out that he hates my guts than wander around like this, avoiding him and not knowing what's going on."

            "Get up!" Canard ordered.

            The other duck obeyed without realizing it, confused. "Why?" he questioned as an after thought.

            "I'm taking you _out_ of the Pond."

            "What? _Why?"_

            "Because it's not doing anything but adding to your dumb I-have-failed-the-world attitude. So we're going out!"

            Wildwing trailed behind Canard as he made his way out of the kitchen. "Where're we going?"

            "Anywhere we end up. Tanya," he added as they passed her on their way to their ultimate destination, "I'm getting Wildwing out of the Pond."

            "About time someone did," she muttered, making the white duck blink at her. She shrugged almost defensively. "We all think you're obsessing over Nosedive. You really _do_ need to get out, take your mind off things. You'll see." She smiled reassuringly. "Everything will be fine."

            He wasn't convinced.

            "We're taking the Duckcycles," Canard continued, pulling the keys off the wall and tossing one to the surprised Wildwing. "Tell everyone else not to worry, we'll be back eventually. We've got our coms, so call us if there's a problem."

            "Have fun," Tanya called.

            "Here's hoping," the leader agreed, pushing Wildwing into the next room.

            Wildwing sighed, sitting back in his seat, swirling his smoothe around its cup. "All right," he admitted to the duck sitting across from him, "so this was a good idea. I'd forgotten how much fun it was to race on Duckcycles."

            "There, see?" Canard inclined his head slightly, raising his glass in a quasi-toast. "I told you. You've spent so much time being that ungrateful squirt's nurse-maid, you've forgotten how to live your own life."

            The white duck chose not to remind his friend that Nosedive _was_ his life. Or, at least, he had been.

            "Now that he's decided to go it alone, I think you should show him it's not the end of your world."

            Of course it was the end. His world had walked away and basically told him to bite it.

            "You should have more fun and prove to him you're all right on your own."

            "…Yeah. Maybe you're right."

            Which had been Nosedive's plan in the first place; not that anyone knew it.

            "Come on." Canard stood and stretched. "Let's ride a bit more before nightfall."

            "Ok," Wildwing agreed, standing as well. They left the mall leisurely, purposefully taking the time to notice anything they'd never taken any note of before. Finally they reached their Duckcycles, parked by the street. 

            Across the street, a streamlined motorcycle parked and went silent as its rider sat up and pushed his short blond hair out of his eyes, keeping it back with a pair of dark sunglasses. Other than black jeans and a leather jacket over a white Fox Gear T-shirt, the glasses were all the protection the teenaged motorcyclist wore.

            After giving a shocked little jump, Wildwing stared towards the teen, face amazed and concerned. "Nosedive!" he called, getting the teen's attention.

            Nosedive, noticing his brother for the first time, groaned and flipped his sunglasses back down, leaning forward to restart the motorcycle.

            "Wait," Wildwing demanded, putting his hand over the key.

            "What do you _want?_" the teen responded angrily, sitting up.

            "Where'd you _get_ this…this…"

            "Suzuki GXR?" he offered, crossing his arms. "I bought it."

            "_Why?_"

            "Mobility."        

            "B-but…you could have used a Duckcycle."

            Nosedive arched an eyebrow at his brother. "If I'm not mistaken, both of the 'Cycles are in use at the moment. Plus, they're Mighty Ducks equipment."

            "So?"

            "So." The younger duck batted the other's hand away and started the motorcycle. He leaned forward, covered the clutch and break, and kicked it into gear. "I quit the Mighty Ducks. You can keep the crap that goes with it." He buzzed away, speeding through a yellow light before flying into a turn and out of sight. 

            Canard jogged up then. "Just when I'd gotten you to lighten up, too," he complained, defeated. 

            Wildwing slumped back to his Duckcycle, thoroughly depressed once more. "I have failed my baby brother," he stated miserably, and repeated it almost as a personal motto for the rest of the day.

            Nosedive sat on his bed, scowling at his pillow. His room was still immaculate, though he didn't know why he was keeping it so. In the back of his mind he remembered how much Wildwing enjoyed clean spaces, and couldn't bring himself to dirty it. 

            Trying to drive his brother away was harder than he'd originally planned on both parties concerned. Every time Wing's face crumpled in pain or paled in withheld agony, it tore at the teen's heart. Wildwing had always been there for him, always protected him from everything that had ever threatened him.

            Everything but one.

            From that one Nosedive intended to save Wildwing, no matter what it took. This time _he'd_ protect his most precious older brother.

            No matter what.

            The dreams came in rapid succession, slashing at the duck's mind.

            He survived.

            He was coming.

            He came.

            Always the same. Different devices, different reasons, different wounds, but the rest was the same. The tiny mad smile, the half-lidded eyes, the cruel, merciless spark that burned whoever it was turned on, even if that someone was small and helpless to begin with.

            He had no soul, no heart. He couldn't, not with what he did and laughed at and said in murmurs in the dark. He was a monster.

            Why hadn't the other come?

            No, no! That was an awful, terrible, deadly desire! He prayed the other would never, never come, never know, never see, never feel. 

            But, oh, he wanted to die. Die and get it over with.

            He came at his charge with a knife and tested its sharpness.

            The little one cried and watched the blade as it was drawn out. Its tip was missing, broken off in the bone of his own tiny shoulder.

            It hurts! It hurts, it hurts, it _hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts-_

_            Someone make it stop!_

            Wildwing hadn't been able to sleep. That was how, wandering the halls, he'd been able to hear his baby brother's soft, half-muted cries of pain.

            For only a moment, he hesitated. If Nosedive were awake, he'd be furious…

            Then the teen gave a sharp cry accented by many softer ones.

            _Hang_ the consequences! 

            He slipped quickly and quietly into the younger duck's room and moved toward where he knew the bed was as his eyes adjusted. 

            Nosedive was tangled in his sheets, curled into a tight ball in the center of his bed, both hands clutching at his right shoulder, calling his pain softly into his pillow as he dreamt. 

            "Shh," Wildwing soothed, sitting on the side of the bed and drawing the trembling figure gently into his arms. "Shh, it's okay, baby brother. It's okay, it's only a dream. Wake up. I've got you, it's okay."

            The loving words pulled Nosedive from his nightmare. His shoulder ached from an old pain, and he lay still in his brother's embrace a long time, frightened and wounded. 

            Wildwing's fingers trailed tenderly through familiar blond locks as the teen slowly calmed. In a while he'd ask what had been so terrifying, and in a while Nosedive would answer, like always.

            Things, he had forgotten, were not like always around the Pond.

            Nosedive pushed against his brother's chest, sitting up. He looked unusually small in his pajamas, a combination of oversized night pants and his brother's old jersey. Head bowed, one hand gripping Wildwing's nightshirt, the other resting limply on his bed, he said something so softly the white duck didn't catch it. 

            "Sorry, Dive, what'd you say?"

            The teen took a deep breath, then released the clump of his brother's shirt he'd been clutching, whispering, "Get out" in a horse, strained voice.

            Something in Wildwing froze. "What?" he asked disbelievingly. 

            "I said…" Nosedive stood, his eyes still shadowed by his bangs, "get out."

            "B-but Dive…"

            "No! I didn't ask you to come in here. This is _my_ room, whether I'm on your stupid team or not! I don't need you to…take care of me." The force and conviction of his statement died at the end, but Wildwing was too hurt to notice.

            "Do you mean that?" he almost begged, standing as well. "Do you really want me to go? Because I will if you ask me to, but I…I won't come back. I'm tired of being in the middle of your new bad attitude. I'm tired of waiting for you to wake up and be okay." Sleep deprivation and soul-wrenching agony were turning all of Wildwing's confused hurt into the deep primal need to inflict pain on the one who was the cause of so much of the same. "If you tell me to leave and you _really_ mean it…I'm not coming back again. You've gotta pick right now. Do you really want me to leave?"

            No. He didn't. What he really wanted to do was throw himself into his brother's arms and tell him everything that was going on, but his decision had escalated past that point all ready. 

            This time he would… No matter what the cost, he would always…

            "Get out, Wildwing."

            The door hissed closed.

            Nosedive sat at the end of his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, hands fisted in his hair for the rest of the night, trying to hide the fragments of his shattered life and hope well enough that they wouldn't be detected.

            Wildwing sat by Drake One, watching his younger brother on a monitor. If this was the only way to be able to keep vigil, so be it.

            Though their eyes remained dry, in their hearts they cried as one.

            Everyone noticed the difference in the brothers the next morning. 

            Nosedive was quiet, not making eye contact with anyone, moving about the Pond like a ghost until morning practice was over, at which point he disappeared all together. 

            Though Wildwing was quiet, too, there was an anger bubbling just under his calm exterior. Life wasn't fair. Justice didn't exist. His little brother had abandoned him after all they'd survived together. And it was all because of those damned…_skaters._ It had all started with them. It was _all their__ fault._

            He would never forgive them.

            Mallory stumbled upon Nosedive hours after morning practice. He was using the rink, skating around dismally, nudging a puck without any enthusiasm. She was silent, deciding to watch and see what unfolded.

            After a while he stopped skating entirely and just stared at the puck. Suddenly he gave a sharp yell and hit the puck with everything he had, slamming it into and through the net. He threw his stick down. Ripping off his gloves, he hurled them at the wall, which he then kicked roughly.

            "I hate this!" he shouted in fury, kicking it again. "I hate this! Why can he screw my life up like this? Over and over and over! I _hate_ this! Who gave him the power? Why? What did I do to _deserve_ this? I wish they'd killed him when they had the chance! I wish they'd killed _me! Damnit!_ I _hate _him!" 

            Nosedive slammed through the barrier off the ice and ran from the Pond.

            Mallory stood after he'd gone, shocked.

            He hadn't been talking about his brother. That much was obvious. Whoever 'he' was, he was the one responsible for everything that had been happening. That, also, was obvious. But who _was_ he? The million-dollar question.

            She couldn't go to Wildwing or Canard without solid information. It would just cause more problems. But there was _someone_ she could plot with on an equally devious level.

            Now, where was Duke?

            Justin watched Nosedive skate through narrowed eyes. The alien teen was coming to the climax of his troubles. His usually flawless run was filled with mistakes born of anger, frustration and confusion.

            Someone had to get through to him _right now_ before he made a huge mistake.

            Nosedive landed on the top of the quarter-pipe and growled. "This place sucks!" he complained. "Everything's all wrong and no one's even _here._ Why are we having a session at this dump?" he demanded, turning on Justin, who scowled right back at him.

            "Hey, don't diss it! Pro skaters workout here. You just can't see it cause you're in such a bad mood!"

            "I am _not_ in a bad mood."

            "You are so, dude, _look_ at yourself! You're mad about _everything_, and I know why!"

            Nosedive glared at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

            "Yes, I do!"

            "Yeah? Then go ahead, tell me why I'm angry."

            "You had an argument with your brother last night that hurt both of you and you feel _guilty,_ but you can't do anything about it because whatever happened in your past has come back to take a chunk out of your ass."

            "Idiot," the Puckworldian scoffed, uncomfortable suddenly. "You don't know anything."

            "If I don't know anything, then how come I'm _dead on target?"_

            "Man, leave me _alone,_ Justin," Nosedive demanded, turning to drop back into the quarter-pipe. "I don't want to talk about it."

            "Well I _do,_" the human pressed, grabbing Nosedive's arm.

            "Let _go,"_ he hissed.

            "No. You have to talk about it or it's going to destroy you."

            "I don't _have_ to do anything!" He twisted out of Justin's hold.

            Justin responded by turning to grab both his shoulders. "I know it's hard, Nosedive, I _know_, okay? But you've _got_ to or he'll destroy you! If you keep it bottled up and it eats you up from the inside out, he'll have _won!" _He gave the duck a hard shake. "Is that what you _want?" _

"No! I'm also not gonna talk about it, especially not with you!" Nosedive threw the human's hands off. "I couldn't tell my brother; you think I can tell you?"

            "You couldn't tell your brother for the exact same reason you_ have_ to tell me."

            "I don't want to hear this," the alien teen said flatly, turning to skate down the quarter-pipe. "I'm not going to hang around here and get lectured."

            "Oh, get off your high horse!" Justin punched Nosedive's bicep hard enough to make the other teen yelp. "Shut up and listen, you moron! Whatever happened to you was _bad,_ that's obvious, and you're embarrassed of it, but that's okay. I'm embarrassed about what happened to me, too, but I _told_ someone. That was my option B. Telling a _social_ worker was my option B. Option A was letting myself get killed. You're facing option A right now, and guess what? I'm not gonna let it happened! I did _not_ survive to watch someone else die!"

            "It's not your decision!" Nosedive yelled, hands balled into fists. "It's mine!

            "Bullshit! It's only yours if I _let_ it be, and I'm _not_ going to allow that!"

            "_It's not your choice!"_

            Justin, fed up with negotiation, tackled Nosedive. The two toppled off the quarter-pipe and tumbled down it, fighting each other. 

            Eventually they slid to a stop.

            "_My dad is a drunk!"_ Justin shouted directly into Nosedive's ear, stunning him. "My dad, who was supposed to love and take care of me, was a stone drunk. Alcoholic is just the nice name for it. He'd come home two, three, four times a _week,_ so smashed he couldn't see straight. Some people can get plastered and be nice about the whole thing, really kinda funny, but not my dad. He was _mean_ and he was _mad_ about everything, especially _me_, because I was his only son and not smart enough to be out when he came back. Besides, my mother needed someone to take care of her, right? So I got his attention when he was going to her, and I took the blows. The bastard hit hard, you know. I broke a lot of bones running into doors and tripping down stairs before someone finally caught on. Not even I am dumb enough to bust my arm falling out of bed. 

            "A teacher approached me first, and I denied it, and my father thrashed me when I got home. Every day that teacher told me I had a choice, I didn't have to let him hurt me, I could tell someone and they'd protect me and my mother and sister. They'd help us. It took me three _years_ with that woman to get the message, but I did get it in the end. Loud and clear. He went after my sister, you see, and not to beat her up. That was just the last straw. I went for option B. My option A was suicide, but that was a cowardly thing to do, and I'm not a coward. 

            "So you see, Nosedive? Awful things happen to good people, _innocent_ people, like we used to be. They just_ happen_. The trick is to be strong enough to withstand them, even when they come back at us, no matter what, to protect the people we care about and get my sister's happily ever after. But to do that you have to _tell_ somebody! You have to be strong enough to _share_ whatever it is he did to you, because otherwise he _won _and I _hate it_ when the bad guys win."

            They sat a long time after that, an eternity, cross-legged on the bottom of the quarter-pipe, backs facing each other. Justin didn't say another word. He'd done all he could. The rest was up to Nosedive.

            "My parents died when I was five."

            It began so suddenly Justin was surprised. He turned around to face his friend but was silent, waiting. There was much more coming.

            Nosedive spoke quietly of the freak accident he knew nothing about that had taken the lives of his parents, that would have taken his life if his older brother hadn't protected him. But the protection had cost dearly. Wildwing was hospitalized in a coma, leaving the child alone at age five. He spoke of having no grandparents or aunt or uncles or cousins or anyone to take him in. Naturally, he said, they'd placed him in a foster home. The guy they gave him to, the adult the government selected to care for the five-year-old, seemed nice enough, had a big house with lots of land, a perfect record. Said he loved kids, not, Nosedive realized as he grew, a good thing. 

            He spoke his foster-father's name through a suddenly constricted throat, and many things slid sharply into focus: Dryden. Five-year-old Nosedive's foster-father Dryden. Now that the name was between them, the words began to tumble out of Nosedive's carefully constructed dam. He spoke now of the hell living with Dryden had been, though it had seemed all right at first. Dryden got him nice clothes and toys and liked to watch him play, which now could be recognized as odd and disturbing. Nosedive spoke of the tiny hope he treasured before he was old enough to recognize its folly, the fond dream that maybe, if he were good enough, Wildwing would get to live with him once he got better. And he was, too. He spoke of the weeks that he was better than gold, and he spoke of the day, the morning, the moment Dryden _snapped._ Though he didn't know what it was then, he'd figured it out later. Dryden had told him, sitting in a dark corner, that it was because Nosedive reminded him of his brother, not because he was a perfect kid but because he was good, just good enough to make everyone love him on sight.

            Nosedive spoke of Dryden's insanity. How, when Dryden was little, his older brother that Nosedive reminded him of got all the attention. And so, when he was twelve, he killed him. Murdered his brother that he hated, the other brother, his parents, little sister…he poisoned them and cut out their hearts. He _kept_ those hearts as trophies. Nosedive told Justin that he only knew all of that because Dryden had told him as a bedtime story, in a terrifyingly nonchalant voice. He told Nosedive a lot of things before he slept, sitting in the dark where he couldn't be seen. Nosedive still felt him there, sometimes, right before he dozed off. Seventeen-years-old, he said, and he had to sleep with the bathroom light on when he got too scared. 

            That, Nosedive said, was the beginning. On top of the bedtime stories, Dryden would tell him about Wildwing and their parents, that they'd gotten in the accident because they hated him and would rather die than be with him. Dryden told him he should feel lucky that he'd taken the boy in because no one else would. He called Nosedive his property, like he was some kind of _thing,_and he said it so much that the child began to believe him.

            This, too, Nosedive said, was the beginning. Later, when he began to feel more comfortable with their roles, Dryden took pleasure in hurting his toy physically. He'd tie his wrists and ankles and beak and cut him with knives to see how sharp they were. Once a tip broke off in his shoulder. It was still there, probably, the teen mused. Dryden used to watch Nosedive bleed and smile this awful smile that he could still see if he closed his eyes… Dryden played with poisons, too. He'd mix things together and make Nosedive take them, just to see what happened. He'd stick him in broom closets with spiders and awful things that crawled.

            It went on like that, Nosedive said, for a _year._ Puckworld was so peaceful no one had a _clue_. He was the only serial killer, Nosedive said. The only one in _history._ There was no branch of the police to handle him because he was one of a kind. By the time the social worker came to check the tiny citizen, he was a mess. Actually, Nosedive realized with a dark chuckle, that social worker had saved his life. She came in just as Dryden was about to poison him like he'd poisoned his family. Then he was going to get another trophy as a memento of his property. When she walked in the room and saw the child lying there, bloody and broken and bound, she froze. She didn't even know what to do. Then, of course, Dryden ran. 

            But she'd seen him, and Nosedive knew him, and Puckworldian police were good at their jobs once they figured out what it was they were doing. Dryden was caught within the week and brought to trial, for the abuse of a hatchling, attempted murder of a hatchling, and the first-degree murder of his family and something like thirty-seven others, to name a few. Nosedive was the lead witness. The trial was top-secret, because the government was embarrassed. They'd let horrendous things happen to the most innocent of citizens right under their beaks and they'd never had a _clue._ Dryden ended up getting something like one thousand life sentences in a maximum security, isolated prison, which meant basically that he'd die on and haunt a tiny rock way out where no one could hear his stories.

            He was gone, Nosedive said, but he'd left his mark. Nosedive was a mess. Wildwing had been living with the Flashblades for a few months and was trying to find his brother so they could live together again, but the child couldn't. He was just all screwed up, having screaming nightmares while he was awake, flinching every time anyone came near him, thinking even water was poisoned. Malnourished but not hungry, dehydrated but too terrified of liquids to drink. He went into literal fits if they came anywhere near him with an IV. It took them a year to put him back together well enough that he could be sent on to Wing. Even then they had to build a past for him to tell everyone, because Dryden didn't technically exist anymore, and the government was still shamed. They found a way to excuse his nightmares, prescribed a sedative and called it medicine for an infection, worked things so he had a special doctor he went to whenever he was sick and twice annually for checkups even though no one knew it was all planned. He'd thought everything was finally going to be all right. It took years, but with Wildwing's help he began to relax, began to have good dreams, normal dreams.

            Then the Saurians invaded. And that was another beginning. He recounted how the Saurians had just swept in and threw everyone they could in camps or mines or factories, gathering whoever they could close to them, attracting like minds. They called it Dryden's Hell, the mine they gave him after they'd freed him, and no one survived it. No one. As soon as Dryden was out, he hunted Nosedive down, had him sought out and switched to Hell so the boy could be his property again and it all started all over again, except this time Nosedive was older and could hurt worse before he started to die. He became Dryden's whipping boy, taking licks for those who couldn't handle it. He still bore the scars on his back. Dryden blamed Nosedive for his imprisonment, his property that had betrayed him, and he hated the boy, wanted to see him slowly bleed to death, day by agonizing day. Dryden's Hell was the first camp the Resistance took out. They knew its reputation, knew what was happening there, knew what that meant. Somehow they won, and Dryden's sentence was lengthened before he was tossed back onto his rock. 

            Again the government had to slowly reconstruct Nosedive from the tattered remains. Then he needed another new past, because once again what was left of the government was shamed. Those of who survived were fed back into the camps to keep the Saurians from wondering about the Hell's sudden collapse. They were told never to speak of their time in that camp again, no matter what. Not that they ever would. He couldn't talk about what happened there if he wanted to; none of them could. It would always be too fresh. 

            Whether by luck or God or some trick of the Resistance, Nosedive ended up in Wing's camp. He helped put the pieces of his shattered brother the Resistance hadn't known about back into place. Then Canard came and got them and Nosedive had thought everything would be fine. 

            "But it's _not," _Nosedive whispered hoarsely. "The war continues here on your planet and the Saurians have brought Dryden as backup. He'll probably kill them. He's looking for me. He still hates me and he's kept the vial of poison that was supposed to kill me all those years ago. I think he's driven me mad again, because otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this. That's why I've been _self-destructing,_ as you put it. That's why I'm pushing Wildwing away. When the inevitable happens and Dryden catches me, I want him to think of my death as a relief rather than a torment. I want him to survive, even if I don't.

            "And that's about the long and short of it."

            A thick, all consuming silence. 

            "Oh my _God,"_ Justin breathed, feeling sick. "Nosedive, I…I never knew…"

            "I know. I'm a good actor, and I learned long ago how to hide my fear very, very well." The duck stood, still facing away from his friend. "Well, is that all you wanted to hear? Now that I've told you all about my secret past, is there anything else you need to know before I go?"

            "Where are you going?"

            No response. Nosedive began to walk away.

            Suddenly afraid for him, Justin leapt up and caught his wrist. "Nosedive, where are you _going?"_

            "To my option A," he replied coolly, stepping away from the human.

            "You can't be _serious!"_ Justin called after him. "Don't throw your life away! Go ask your brother for help!"

            "I've been able to keep Dryden and Wildwing apart my entire life. You think I'm going to stop _now?_ Besides, I just realized." He tossed his head defiantly, sending the golden locks flicking out of his eyes. "I'm tired of running from him." Nosedive stopped by his motorcycle and smiled sadly back at the stunned teen. "Goodbye, Justin. You really were a good friend. This is just something I've got to do."

            "_What_ is?" Justin yelled after him, but Nosedive was already gone.

            Canard looked up when someone entered the Pond. "We're in the middle of afternoon practice," he called to the small human. "Come back in an hour."

            "No," was the flat response. "Which one of you is Wildwing? I saw you a few weeks ago, but…I forgot already."

            The goalie blinked at this strange figure. Then the pieces clicked into place and he skated forward, hissing, "_You."_

            Justin blinked, suddenly unsure. "Um, yeah. Me."

            "What did you do to my little brother?"

            "Dude, what?" Why was this duck so angry? "I didn't do anything to Nosedive!"

            "Then why is he acting so strange lately?"

            "That's what I came to talk about, actually, but I'm not sure we have much time—"

            "Are you a drug dealer?" a tan feathered duck demanded, joining Wildwing.

            "No!" Justin frowned. "I've never done drugs before in my life!"

            "Sure," the new duck sneered.

            "What gives _you _the right to accuse _me?_ You don't even know me!"

            "We don't need to," Wildwing snapped. "And we don't need you around here. Go jump off whatever it is you jump off and get out of here _right now."_

            Justin was shaking with suppressed fury, glaring at the ducks. "You…you…"

            "Get out," Wildwing ordered again, and began to skate away. Canard followed him.

            The human teen turned. He was going to leave, had every intention of stomping out the door and letting the damned Adults handle their own shit.

            Then he thought of Nosedive, facing the worst fear and demon from his past alone, and he groaned to himself. Turning, he went back over to the rink and leaned over its low wall. 

            "My father's a drunk who used to beat me!"

            Practice slammed to a halt. Every set of eyes turned to lock on the very strange human teen.

            "That's my awful past," Justin continued mercilessly, gaze locked on Wildwing's. "That's the thing I'm not proud of but had no control over that I had to tell Nosedive to get him to tell me about the thing _he's_ not proud of but had no control over. He told me everything, about why he's been acting the way he has, about all his reasoning, about why he's pushing you away. All of you." He included the rest of the Mighty Ducks in a sweep of his eyes.

            "You're lying," Wildwing said flatly, and turned to skate away.

            "He told me about the two years you were separated!"

            Wildwing froze and slowly turned to stare, horrified, at the Earthling. "Nosedive won't tell anyone about that," he whispered brokenly. "_No one._"

            "Well he told me."

            "Why?"

            "Because I beat him up and threw him down a quarter-pipe and _made_ him."

            "You _what?"_

            Justin shrugged. "It's what any good friend would do."

            Wildwing shook his head, still in denial.

            "He told me about his first foster father," the teen pressed, hope growing as his friend's brother skated ever closer. "He told me why he wasn't allowed to tell anyone else. He told me why he's always had nightmares and been afraid of the dark, ever since he was five. It's not because of the accident that killed your parents and hurt you. He doesn't even remember what the accident was. His foster father made him afraid of the dark by sitting unseen in a corner of his room and telling him stories about how he'd killed his family."

            Everyone froze again.

            "Don't you get it? Why he's so afraid he can't even tell you, why he's running from things that used to comfort him, why he's having nightmares that _you can't fix._ Haven't you figured it out yet?

            "Dryden was Nosedive's first foster father."

            Wildwing felt his heart stop and his world come crashing down around him.

            As everyone else stood in a shocked silence, Canard skated forward and took a deep breath. "Tell us more. Tell us everything."

            "There isn't much time."

            "Then tell us quickly."

            Justin did.

AN: Welp. I fully expect to be busted for this ending. Good news: Only one part left! Yay! *crickets* Erm, yeah . I go to bed now. Night!


	6. Part Six: End Game

AN: Last part! Woo-hoo! This chapter is dedicated to Justsomeone1, who left me what I'm pretty sure is the longest review of my career. The story is dedicated to Becks—a new friend who prompted me to post when I really didn't feel like it—and Catchfire—my twin who made me post this thing in the first place. So blame them. *winky-face*

Disclaimer: Dude, get a hobby.

                                Part six: Endgame

                                         Embracing the Knife

            For a long while after Justin finished, there was silence in the Pond. No one moved. The horror of what Nosedive had been through all by himself was surreal, and their minds refused to accept it. Although it explained a lot, it also brought to the surface each and every time anyone had ever teased the teen about terrors embedded in him since youth by an evil, sadistic monster. 

            They had _teased_ him.

            How had he been able to chuckle and joke back? Where had he gotten the resilience, the _tenacity_ necessary to survive a situation like that?

            Of course, in one way it was self-explanatory. He had gotten resilience and tenacity because he'd _had_ to have them if he didn't want to die. He had been able to laugh at taunts from ducks his age and older about his fear of the dark and needles and liquid medicine and spiders because, if he didn't, they would wonder, and he didn't want them to wonder. The situation itself had, on that one level, forced him to be stronger, which might have saved him in the camp.

            Then again, it also made him very vulnerable. Naturally he was terrified of Dryden. The very thought of him probably made the teen's heart pound. Since childhood, Dryden had been a hugely powerful, deadly being, to be feared and obeyed. Because of that, one of two things was very possible. Either the mass murderer would be able to get Nosedive to do anything he wanted or the teen would stand up against him, just to prove that he could. With the type of personality the kid had, it wouldn't be choice one. 

            So Nosedive was going to face Dryden. He'd probably been planning to since he's shown up the first time. And he didn't expect to win. He was going into the battle knowing he would die, which was why he was trying to push his much loved older brother away: to save him the heartache of losing someone close. If he was angry with him, the teen reasoned, he wouldn't hurt as much. He'd already have been leaning on Canard and the others for a while, so leaning on them a little more would just be natural.

            Faulty logic, but it showed how deeply Nosedive had thought about the entire thing. 

            They hadn't even had a _clue._

            Canard winced suddenly, remembering his crack about the small fry's shaking every time he set eyes on Dryden. No wonder the twerp had been so mad. He really _hadn't_ known anything. 

            Damn.

            "Where is he?" Wildwing's voice, soft and low, shattered the heavy silence. When no answer was immediately given, he looked up and met Justin's eyes desperately. "Where is he?" the white duck repeated, louder and slightly more panicked. "I have to find him. I have to apologize and try to help! Please, _please_ tell me where he is."

            "I would," Justin promised, shrugging helplessly, "but I don't know. He left after he told me everything and just said he had something to do. He didn't say what, but I…I think he's going after Dryden. Not now, but eventually. He's setting up his final strike."

            The brother skated woozily to the players' bench and sat, hunched forward with his head in hands propped on his knees. "I've failed him," he moaned, "I've failed him. He went through hell twice, and I'm such a terrible, worthless big brother, I never even knew."

            "That's not true," Canard snapped harshly. "You didn't know because he didn't _want_ you to know, because somewhere in that shadowed mind of his he thought he was protecting you. It was a bad idea, but it's the reason. Not because you're worthless or awful at taking care of him but because he-"

            "It's not his fault!" Wildwing cried, leaping up. "Take that back, Canard!"

            The other duck narrowed his eyes at his friend. "I won't," he replied flatly, "because it's the truth."

            "Take it _back!"_

            "_No."_

            "Please!" Tanya begged, skating forward to place herself between Wildwing and Canard. She was shaking. "Please! Don't _fight,_we don't have _time_ for it! We've got to stick together and find Nosedive before…before it's-" She couldn't finish the sentence.

            Justin strapped his helmet back on. "I'll check all the places we've ever had sessions," he assured. "I'll get Thrash, Mookie, Tiger and anyone else I run across looking for him. If we find anything, I'll let you know. What's a number I can reach you at?"

            "One of us will stay at the Pond in case he comes back," Canard told him, once again the leader of the group. "You can call us here."

            The teen pulled out a cell phone and opened the phonebook option. "Okay, what's the number?"

            After he had it, Justin skated away as quickly as he could, and Canard continued to organize. 

            "Mallory, Duke, you take the Duckcycles and try to find him locally. Grin, you and Tanya take the Migrator to the city limits and look for him out there." He shot a look at Wildwing. "_I'll _take the Aerowing and scan the city from the sky. One of us is bound to find him. Don't let him know you see him until you've called in his location, then approach as gently as you can without being patronizing. Wildwing, you stay here, in case he comes back. If he shows up, call us all on our coms and let us know right away. Keep him here no matter what. Any question? Okay, team, let's hit it."

            They scoured the city for Nosedive, searched everywhere, but to no avail. 

            Good news: At least he wasn't facing Dryden. Yet.

            Bad news: He could be doing any number of things that just weren't good for him.

            Wildwing was absolutely no use. Something in him seemed to have crumbled into worthless ashes, and he could only stare dismally and blame himself, which wasn't accomplishing anything. No one could make him snap out of it. Only Nosedive could do that, and things weren't currently looking very good for the teen. 

            Finally, at about one AM, the search was put on hold for the night.

            The team slept fitfully.

            At two thirty-seven AM, Nosedive slipped into the Pond. Since he knew the access codes, his entrance went totally unnoticed. By four-o-five, he was done with what he had to do and was going to creep away again when he passed Wildwing's door.

            Therein lied his main problem. The Mask of Ducaine. Eventually Wildwing would be able to use it to find him. Then he'd come in like a savior only to fall dead just like everyone else.

            Just…like…_everyone…_

            Steeling his will, Nosedive snuck into his brother's room. The Mask was lying on a nightstand by his bed. Taking it was child's play and would have been even if Duke _hadn't_ been giving him lessons on how to nab anything, anywhere, anytime. 

            Now that he had the Mask, now that he'd replaced it with a note, now that he was finished, he should have left. But he couldn't. Wildwing was sleeping fitfully, wrapped in both his sheets and a nightmare.

            Nosedive was a connoisseur of nightmares. He knew what they were and what could make them finish pleasantly. Knowing he shouldn't, he moved forward silently and laid a gentle, light hand on his brother's forehead. Almost immediately, Wildwing sighed contentedly and stilled, his breathing evening out. Nosedive smiled fondly and very sadly. This was the last time he'd ever see his brother. The knowledge of that hurt way deep down in his chest. He'd never see Wildwing again. Never hear a lecture or see a smile or cause a laugh…

            It was terrifying, knowing you were going to die, but by God…

            He wasn't going alone. Dryden was going with him.

            His resolve firmed one last time, and he turned away.

            "Goodbye, brother."

            At five thirteen, Nosedive left the Pond for the very last time.

            Wildwing woke at five thirty. Something was not right. Or, rather, something had been not right for a long time. Then, last night in his dream, it was fine again only to become down right _wrong._

            He reached for the Mask and froze when his hand landed on a folded slip of paper instead. A terrible suspicion made his chest tighten as he sat up and fumbled for a light.

            The paper read, in a woefully familiar script: 

_Borrowed until further notice _

_–Management_

            Wildwing leapt from his bed yelling in a panicked voice, "Canard! Tanya! Duke, Mallory, Grin! He was here! Nosedive was _here,_ and he took the Mask!"

            The Mighty Ducks, all still in the nightwear, gathered quickly in the Ready Room.

            "What's the problem?" Mallory demanded, arms crossed to keep warm.

            Wildwing waved the small paper around. "Nosedive! He was _here, _in my _room, _and he took the Mask of Ducaine!"

            There was a collective cry of "_What?"_

            Then Canard pushed forward and snatched the paper from Wildwing's trembling hand. He read it quickly. At the end, an eyebrow quirked. "'Management?'" he quoted. "At least we know he must have been ok since his humor is still intact."

            "That's all you can _say?"_ Tanya squeaked. "Nosedive was here—_right here!—_and we didn't even know it!"

            "Calm down," Duke advised, "everything's fine now."

            "Fine?" she demanded, glaring at him. "_Fine?_ Duke, we let him slip through our fingers! Oh, I _knew_ we should have had someone on the monitors! I _knew_ it!"

            "It's ok, Tanya," Canard promised. "Duke's right. Now that Nosedive took the Mask, everything's fine."

            Wildwing was starting to smile. It was weary and so very sad, but it was a start. "Now that he has the Mask," he repeated softly.

            "What's so great about him stealing the Mask?" Mallory asked, frowning. "It just adds to his list of bad ideas, doesn't it?"

            "Bad ideas that have backfired," Canard corrected, grinning.

            "What are you _talking_ about?"

            The teen's brother strode away, heading towards the underground garage. Canard followed excitedly, not bothering to answer.

            "What he's saying, sweetheart," Duke explained, tossing an arm over her shoulders, "is that the Mask has a tracking device in it. And if we can track the Mask…"

            "We can track Nosedive," she finished in an awed whisper. "We've _got him!"_ Mallory threw her arms around Duke's neck and smothered him in a hug.

            "Come on!" Tanya interrupted, grabbing the back of Mallory's small nightdress and dragging her along. "Let's go bring him back before he does anything stupid!"

            Duke and Grin followed. 

            When the four reached the garage, Wildwing and Canard were debating which more of transport to take. Finally they decided upon the Migrator and pulled its startcard from its little pouch hanging on the wall among others, which were labeled according to what they started. 

            Instead of a plastic card, Canard produced a small slip of paper. It said _I'm sorry._

            For a moment, the two stared at it. Then Wildwing moved forward, panicked denial filling his chest.

            Aerowing: _I'm sorry._

            Duckcycles: _I'm sorry._

In every slot _I'm sorry._

_            I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

            "No!" Canard growled even as Wildwing turned and ran from the room.

            "Wait!" Tanya called, and dashed after him. "What's wrong?"

            Wildwing didn't answer. He slid to a halt in front of his brother's room and slammed in the code. It was denied. Nosedive had changed it. Turning again, he pushed past Tanya silently and slipped into his room only to emerge second later. He walked back to his brother's door and faced it squarely. Stepping back, the white duck lifted his puck launcher and fired once, twice, three times. The door hung broken on the very bottom hinge only. Wildwing darted into the room and looked around for a moment.

            Tanya entered in time to see him pick something up from the younger duck's perfectly made and spotless bed.

            The Mask of Ducaine.

            A note was under the Mask.

            Wildwing read it. Then he took a deep, shivering breath. 

            "May I?" Tanya asked hesitantly, coming up behind him.

            Without a word he handed her the note.

_            To the best big brother in the history of history:_

                        From you to me back to you, as it should be. I'm sorry for everything, for all the trouble I caused and all the headaches and everything…If Justin hasn't already explained things (which I bet he has) go find him and ask. I don't mind you knowing now. Please live a good and full life. Try not to think about me if you can help it. 

_                                                                                    All my love forever and ever,_

_                                                                                    Dive_

            "No," Tanya whispered, but Wildwing was already in motion again.

            Whatever had shattered in him was now back together.

            He put on the Mask and strode back down to hall to Canard and the others, Tanya trotting after him, the note clutched in her hands.

            "Hey!" Canard exclaimed, pointing at the Mask. "That's-"

            "Yes," Wildwing interrupted, "it is." Walking right past his friend, he kicked a creeper in front of him all the way to the Migrator, at which point he sat on it and pulled himself under the large vehicle. 

            After a few moments, it roared into life and Wildwing slid back out, standing and shoving the creeper away.

            "It's running," he said flatly, opening the driver's side door and climbing in, "let's go."

            Everyone obeyed. Only Tanya had enough presence of mind to ask, "What'd you do? Where're we going?"

            "I hotwired it. The Mask helped me figure out how. And we're going to find my baby brother."

            Canard hesitated a moment. "How?" he ventured finally.

            "We just _are._"

            Somehow they were all able to believe him.

            Six of the seven Mighty Ducks slunk quietly through the Raptor. The ship was in disrepair, lights dimmed and flickering occasionally, but why? Usually Dragonius kept everything in top order, preparing for an energy source and his following hostile takeover. So why was the whole ship a mess?

            Deciding it really wasn't important, they continued forward through the poorly lit corridors. 

            Eventually the tight hallway opened into a large room, filled with huge boxes, crates and half-assembled machinery. It was a very tall room, maybe a quarter of the Raptor's full height. Two-thirds of the way to the ceiling, a small viewing deck stretched along the walls. Though usually it had a railing that ran with it, a huge chunk of it seemed to have been knocked out.

            Dryden was standing centered in the hole, grinning savagely down at them. "Welcome," he growled demonically. "Please do not waste _any _concern on the Saurians; I have previously dealt with them. Did you know Saurians have _two_ hearts? One is much smaller and I think used only for backup purposes. Imagine _my_ surprise, though!"

            "That's sick," Wildwing muttered, and the others agreed. 

            _No one_ deserved a death at Dryden's hands, not even Saurians.

            "Anyway, no doubt you're waiting to hear my brilliant master plan, which I intend to do now that you're all here. Well, let me assure you, it's pretty simple. It starts with this-" a large cage fell suddenly, capturing the Ducks- "and ends with this." A spotlight flicked on, illuminating a previously unnoticed figure crouched by a group of crates. It was clutching its left side, breathing hard. Blood seeped steadily through its fingers and it was staring fixedly at Dryden as it trembled. A puck launcher was held in the same hand that applied pressure to the side wound. Blond, short, scraggly hair hung limply in its eyes.

            It was, naturally, Nosedive. He didn't seem to notice that the others had come. Dryden took his full, terrified, determined attention.

            For the first time they realize that Dryden was wounded, if not as badly as Nosedive then at least _almost_ as bad.

            "Aren't you going to get up anymore?" Dryden taunted, eyes narrowed very slightly at the teen. "You have been doing _so_ well."

            Nosedive glared and would have retorted if he didn't need to save all his energy. Standing, he brought both hands up to steady his puck launcher. Just before he was ready to fire, he gasped and winced, his right hand darting back to his side. Then his expression hardened and he got Dryden in his sights quickly, firing twice.

            One shot Dryden dodged; the other hit his shoulder, knocking him over and back.

            The teen activated his skates and zipped over to a ramp that led up to where the other duck was.

            Wildwing was frantic by this time, trying everything to get out of his prison. 

            "That's not helping!" Canard hissed at him, pulling him back. "_Be quiet! _You're going to distract him!"

            "That's my brother," Wildwing panted, both hands wrapped around the bars as he watched Nosedive skate towards Dryden's fallen form. "That's my baby brother. I've got to protect him!"

            "You _can't."_

            And that was the truth, laid out and unflinching. 

            All it accomplished was to strengthen Wildwing's desire to get _out._

            Everyone looked up at a surprised cry from Nosedive. 

            Dryden had not been knockout as he'd hoped. Instead he merely acted the part, grabbing the teen's ankle and yanking when he was close enough, slamming him to the ground. His puck launcher clattered away. Then he scrambled over the fallen, dazed figure and straddled his waist to keep him from moving.

            The others could see the blond of Nosedive's hair as well as Dryden's face and torso but nothing else. It was infuriating.

            Dryden, grinning savagely, wrapped his hands around the terrified Nosedive's throat. "You have no idea how long," he purred insanely, "how very _long_ I've waited for this moment. Feels like old times again, don't you think?"

            Nosedive gagged and the murderous duck laughed. 

            "Quite right, quite right! You were always such a _clever_ lad. I've been saving this a long time, you know." With his right hand, he drew from a pocket a syringe, topped with a very thin, very long needle. The left hand remained clamped on the teenager's neck. 

            "Does this look familiar?" he asked, holding the needle between two fingers, his thumb poised to apply pressure and inject the serum. "I don't know how I've managed to keep it _all these years_, but somehow I did. Amazing, isn't it?"

            The teen's eyes were wide and horrified.

            "_Nosedive!"_ someone cried, desperate. "_Nosedive!"_

            Who, though? There was no one in the world save him and Dryden. 

            Right?

            _"Nosedive, don't you dare let him win! You're stronger than him, I know you are! Without his mind tricks, you can take him! Don't you DARE die or I'll follow you and KILL_ _you myself! Do you hear me? I won't lose you again, I **won't!** I **refuse** to! So you'd just better beat him or I'll…you'd just better!"_

            Wildwing! That was Wildwing! He was _here!_ If he strained, he could just barely see him, clutching the bars and…was he crying? Oh, dear, that wasn't good. 

            Wait a minute, what was Dryden doing?

            He was smiling evilly, leaning forward to stick the needle into the teen's throat.

            But Wildwing…he said not to lose, didn't he?

            Didn't he?

            "After I'm done with you," the creature hissed in a low, merciless voice, "I'll move on to your _brother_. And after _hours_ of that fun, I'll dispose of the rest of them."

            Something gentle and frightened in Nosedive _snapped._

            He would…to Wildwing…

            "_Bastard!"_ the teen growled, and reached up…

            Canard didn't know what to do. His best friend was a mess of desperate emotions. When he'd suddenly started yelling at his brother, lying still and terrified under the mercy of a killer, he'd surprised everyone.

            Then he'd been unable to yell anything else, overtaken with fear and soul wrenching desperation.

            "Please," he was whispering, "please," and nothing else.

            There was a tremendous cry of effort and Dryden came sailing over the broken railing, landing in a painful heap feet from their cage. 

            Nosedive leapt after him, crouching between the demon of his past and the Mighty Ducks. Reaching to the side slightly, he picked up a Saurian blaster. He stood, face hard, and aimed at Dryden.

            "You're finished," he said in a cold, slightly frantic tone. "_Finished!_ I won't let you hurt them!"

            "You can't stop me," Dryden growled, smiling cruelly. "Even if you _do_ find the resolve in you to kill me, I still own you. I own your _dreams_ and your _fears_ and I will _forever,_ no matter what."

            Nosedive was trembling, realizing the truth in the statement. He'd always be afraid of the dark and of stories in the shadows, of needles and medicine and knives that were too sharp, of small spaces and spiders. In that way, Dryden would always control the part of him that shook and screamed in the recesses of his mind.

            But now, here…he could destroy the creator of all those fears.

            He had the power. He could pull the trigger, shoot and shoot and shoot and shoot…

            "Nosedive," someone murmured behind him, making his hands stop trembling. Wildwing. "Don't."

            "Don't?" the teen questioned uncertainly, almost angrily. "_Don't?_ Don't _what?_ Do to him what he would have done to all of you for hours and hours? Don't do to him what he did to the _Saurians_ and the _ducks_ before them and _me_ before them and his own _family_ before me? Don't put a stop to it all once and for all? How can you tell me _don't?"_ The blaster was shaking in his hands again, but Dryden was close. He'd still be able to hit him. "You know what he did to me!" Everyone could hear the note of hysteria in his voice, and Dryden began to fear. "You _know!_ I deserve this! For all the pain, all the fear, all the _screaming nightmares, _I _deserve_ this! It's my _right!"_

            "No," Wildwing argued in a calming voice, "it's not, Nosedive. No one has the right to take the life of another, not unless it's in self-defense. He's at your mercy now. You have to show him that mercy or you'll be no better than _him."_

            "Him?" Nosedive was suddenly indecisive. If his revenge would turn him into what he most hated, was it worth it? "Wildwing, if I killed him, would you still love me?"

            "I would love you no matter what you did," the older brother assured firmly, "but I wouldn't be proud."

            Nosedive froze.

            "I would think you'd lost the part of you that laughs and has always been free and apart from him, that you'd had it in your hands and killed it. I would mourn that loss forever. But, yes, I would love you."

            Finally, as though it cost him every ounce of strength he had, the teen lowered his blaster.

            Everyone in the cage behind him let out a relieved sigh.

            "I knew you didn't have the strength to kill me!" Dryden laughed. "Or the courage!"

            "It wouldn't have been courage," Nosedive murmured, tired beyond anything he'd ever known before. "It would have been your final act of torture, which would have tormented me the rest of my life. You know that. I…but now I'm over that, which means I'm over _you._ You still frighten me, and you probably always will, deep down where it doesn't really matter anyway, but I'm not afraid of you. You're only as strong as I let you be, and really…you're not that tough." He smiled cockily, on the verge of collapse. "You've lost your edge, old man!"

            "_No!"_ Dryden hissed, eyes flashing, "_No!"_

            Nosedive turned away to smile at his brother and the team. "Hello," he greeted, "nice to see you."

            Wildwing smiled in return, hands wrapped around the bars, eyes filled with tears. "Hi, Dive."

            Duke was stepping forward to ask the kid a question when he saw it. Dryden had pulled himself to his feet and was rushing forward, the syringe held before him like a knife.

            It was Canard who called the warning first. "Nosedive! Look out!"

            The teen turned and raised the blaster in the same precise motion. A shot sounded; Dryden flew back. 

            He landed and clutched his shoulder.

            Nosedive took a deep breath, lowering the Saurian weapon. "You have no power over me. Not anymore." The blaster clattered to the floor. "Never again. You can't make me kill you, can't make me do what you want me to." He glared at the stunned and bleeding older duck. "Go bother someone who _cares!"_ Then he turned his attention back to the Mighty Ducks. "Let's get you out of there." After a moment he found the crane operating the cage, maneuvering it up and away. He ran back to his brother and smiled shyly up at him. "I, uh…see you found the Mask."

            "Don't you _ever leave notes like those again!" Wildwing ordered, glaring slightly. Then he grinned widely at the wincing figure. "They were so _corny_!"_

            With a tiny cry Nosedive launched himself into Wildwing's welcoming arms.

            There was a sharp sound accented by Dryden's laugher and Nosedive went ridged, still clutched in his brother's arms. The teen turned wide, shocked eyes on Wildwing as his knees buckled.

            "Nosedive!" his brother cried. "What…what?" He sank to the ground, supporting the much smaller duck's weight. Something fell fast and continually to the floor, wetting it. Wildwing sat the teen up and looked confusedly at his back. Then, in utter horror, he looked at Dryden who still sat, a needle protruding from the crook of his right arm, a fallen Saurian blaster in his hand. His laugher fell silent as he toppled back, eyes fogged and unseeing.

            Nosedive gasped thinly, his own magnificent eyes shifting in and out of focus. "Wildwing," he murmured, clutching at his hand, "Wildwing!"

            "Quick!" the older brother yelled at his shocked team. "We've got to get to the Pond! Nosedive's been shot!"

            He lay on the Medlab table, pale as death and barely breathing. His brother and teammates hovered over him anxiously, none of them willing to leave.

            Shot through the back, cut in the side, sprained ankle, bruised and beaten…

            How could they have dared to leave?

            Forty-seven hours they stayed watch, unable to sleep even when they wandered pointlessly to their rooms. Forty-seven hours until he stabilized enough that he wasn't in danger of slipping away at any moment. Forty-seven hours until Wildwing finally collapsed and had to be put on a nearby table. 

            It was a week until Nosedive woke, and even then he didn't say anything. He opened his eyes and looked at Tanya, who gasped and put a hand to her cheek, smiling and crying suddenly. Then his eyes wandered slowly over to where his brother slept, and he smiled, dropping back into oblivion.

            Wildwing threw a conniption fit when he realized what he'd missed.

            Another week and Nosedive began to dream, horrible dreams that made him thrash against his IV unless Wildwing was there, murmuring comfortingly and running fingers through his short hair. 

            Halfway through the third week, Canard entered the Medlab to find Wildwing sitting by his brother's bed, talking softly, the Mask on his lap. Nosedive was looking at him, tired but content. When he noticed Canard, the teen smiled hesitantly and whispered, "Hi." His voice was horse from lack of use.

            "Hi yourself," the leader returned softly, sitting on the other side of his bed. "How do you feel?"

            "Like shit," he assured, "only substitute a different word for shit, because cursing is what got us in this mess in the first place."

            Canard laughed. "Cursing didn't get us in this mess, a psychotic got us in this mess. And you can swear all you want. Frankly, Scarlet, I don't give a damn."

            Nosedive snorted, closing his eyes and turning his face towards the ceiling. "Been watching _Gone with the Wind?"_

            "Hey, you've been out nearly three weeks and your brother has become obsessive and boring. I had to entertain myself _some_how."

            "The movie's almost that long. What else did you see?"

            "Frodo Baggins, for one."

            "_You saw _Lord of the Rings?"__

            "Is that what it's called? Yeah, I saw that."

            "I'm shocked."

            "Why?"

            "Because _Lord of the Rings _is cultured and _you_ are not."

            "Hey, I-"

            "Don't," Wildwing mouthed, and under his glare Canard changed the subject.

            "Er…so, uh, how's the weather?"

            Nosedive snorted again. After a pause he asked suddenly, "Hey, Canard?"

            "Yeah?"

            "You know how…when this was all beginning to get really bad, I…I, um…quit the team? W-well, I was wondering…"

            Canard laid something over the teen's chest and he opened his eyes, blinking at it.

            The number 33 jersey. 

            "We practice twice a day for two hours, once from 6 to 8 AM, the other from 4 to 6 PM. Once you're feeling better, you think you can make those? They're non-optional, you know."

            Eyes closed once more, Nosedive nodded, not trusting his voice. He was smiling as he fell back into a healing sleep.

            Duke arched an eyebrow at Mallory as they exited the Medlab amid gales of laugher and the sounds of a lecture. "He was only joking."

            "_Hang his jokes!" she fumed, storming toward the kitchen. "He's got the worst sense of humor in the __galaxy!"_

            "And you _missed it, didn't ya?"_

            "Yeah," she sighed, smiling as her shoulders relaxed, "I sure did."

            Meanwhile, in the Medlab, Wildwing continued to reprimand his little brother. 

            "Oh come _on, Wing," Nosedive protested, grinning. "You have to admit, it was funny!"_

            "I don't _have to admit anything, even though it was just a _little bit_ humorous. That's not the point, though! The point is…forget it," he sighed, massaging his temples. "I don't even remember."_

            Nosedive was still sitting up in bed grinning when Canard entered to talk with Wildwing.

            "It's been almost a month and a half," he reminded the white duck in an undertone as the teen fiddled with a Rubik's cube. "The Raptor's cold enough to keep them from…you know…smelling and drawing attention, but we've got to handle them _eventually."_

            "How?" Wildwing asked just as softly. "The Saurians we can bury at sea in their ship, but what about Dryden?"

            "Burn it."

            Surprised, both Wildwing and Canard turn to Nosedive, who was watching them intently, his expression very serious.

            "Burn it," he repeated. "Scatter half the ashes in a volcano. Bury the other half in Antarctica, at the very base of the world where they can never be found."

            And that's exactly what they did.

            Justin came to visit Nosedive the day of his wounding but was turned away by a very uptight group of ducks that were practically foaming at the mouth about _sterilization!_

            Two months later, he returned a little hesitantly, determined to find out how the alien duck was doing. 

            Everyone but the duck in question and his brother was skating on the ice merrily, having an impromptu practice session.

            The greeted him warmly, treating him like a hero for the information he'd given them what seemed like a lifetime ago, then they told him where the Medlab was and wished him the 'very best of days' before going back to their practice.

            "Weird people," the teen muttered, opening the door to the Medlab. The scene before him was so heartwarming it was almost sickening.

            Nosedive sat very still, bandaged but smiling, on one of the sickbeds, wearing an overly large old jersey that sported the number 00. His brother was behind him with a pair of scissors, straightening up the ends of the younger duck's ragged haircut.

            "Done?" the blond duck asked.

            "Not yet," was the patient response. Snip, snip.

            "Now?"

            "No, not yet."

            "Now?"

            "Almost, hold on."

            "_No-ow?"_

            "Dive, shut up, I'm almost done!"

            Nosedive snickered.

            After a few moments, Wildwing stepped back, scrutinized his work, then nodded, satisfied. "Okay, I'm done. Not that you can get up and cheer," he reminded, a firm hand on the younger duck's shoulder.

            "You're such a killjoy, Wing. You need to lighten up, go with the flow, let your karma leave the confines of your ridged life and-"

            "All right, that's it, no more visits from Grin."

            "But he's the only one who plays chess well!"

            "Get over it."

            Justin cleared his throat, stepping forward.

            Nosedive grinned. "Hey, Justin! Long time no see! What've you been up to?"

            The human teen shrugged, approaching with his hands in his pockets. "Nothin' much. Winin' competitions, getting major sponsorships, thinkin' about goin' pro. Y'know. Same ole same ole."

            "Sponsorships," Nosedive grinned, "_awesome."_

            "Yeah, kinda." There was a pause. "Tiger sent this," Justin continued, propping his backpack on the bed and pulling out a deck of cards. "She said to tell you she took out all the aces and is keeping them until you learn to play clean. Thrash and Mookie sent _these._" He extracted a huge pile of comics, setting them by Nosedive. "They wanted to know why you've been avoiding them. I explained things and they got kinda mad, cause you didn't come to them about it, so I explained a bit better and they say to get well or they'll hunt you down." He shrugged. "They don't believe in get well cards. For some reason, they always send get well _threats_ by word of mouth. I don't understand it, but there you go."

            "Well, that's Thrash and Mookie for you."

            "Yeah."

            Another almost awkward silence. Wildwing busied himself with putting the scissors away and cleaning up the small mess he'd made.

            "Justin," Nosedive began hesitantly, "I never…y'know…_thanked you."_

            Surprised, the human looked at him. "For what?"

            "Finding my option B."

            Slowly Justin smiled.

            "Okay," Wildwing sighed as he reentered the Pond with his baby brother. "So I admit it. Inline skating _isn't necessarily just for punks and your friend __is good at it even though he's _not_ a punk."_

            "I'll show you my tricks tomorrow," Nosedive assured, limping only slightly. 

            "You'll show me two months from tomorrow," the older brother corrected, keying in the code to the lower levels of the Pond and letting the teen in first. "Right?"

            "But _Wild_wing, I've been resting for_ever._ I'm_ bored _already. I want to _do _something."

            "Play with your Rubik's Cube," Wildwing suggested. 

            "I already _beat_ that _weeks_ ago. I wanna do something _physical._ Why don't you let me help Tanya with the gateway generator?"

            "Why don't you go to bed? It's late."

            "I don't _wanna,"_ he whined even as he slipped into his room. "And it's not late."

            "Go to bed anyway."

             "You," he accused, "are no fun."

            "My life's mission," the white duck assured, going into his own room. "I can now sleep tighter." 

            "Bah, you suck."

            "Thank you."

            Two doors closed.

            "I love this early bed time of Nosedive's," Tanya commented to Mallory, smiling.

            "I _know,"_ she agreed as she entered the code for her room and the door opened. "Everything's so-" silly string poured from her room in torrents, covering them both- "peaceful." 

            Duke roared with laugher down the hall, making Grin poke out of his room to see what was going on. Snickering, he went back to his meditation.

            Yes, things were going back to a very pleasant normal.

            Wildwing sat up in bed, confused, when someone keyed open the door to his room. "Wha's goin' on?" he asked, words slurred as he glanced at his digital clock.

            Twelve-thirty.

            Standing in the door, looking slightly embarrassed, was Nosedive. "I couldn't sleep," he admitted, shrugging. As per usual, he was engulfed in one of Wildwing's old jerseys. "Um…actually, I guess I'll go now. You look tired. Sorry for bothering you."

            "Dive," Wildwing called, and patted the bed beside him when the younger duck turned back around.

            Grinning sheepishly, he slunk over and sat almost rigidly on the very edge.

            "Bad dream?" the older brother offered as a starting point.

            "Yes," he sighed, relaxing a little. "I think I'll always have nightmares. I hate them, but I can't make them stop. It's…it's frustrating. The room's just so dark," he explained, trying to make sense. "I dunno. Maybe I'm acting like a little kid. I should probably just tough it out, right? That's what Mallory would say for sure. Duke would shrug and be impartial, Canard would try to train it out of me, Grin would offer to meditate, and Tanya would build a machine to fix whatever's wrong with my brain."

            "And Phil would try to sell it, Thrash and Mookie would think it has to do with alien abductions, Justin would tell you to skate on it, and God knows what that Tiger person would do," Wildwing continued, shaking his head. "Everyone handles things differently. I, personally, would probably have done just what you did and sought solstice."

            "Solstice?" Nosedive questioned. 

            "Sanctuary."

            "Yeah, I know what the word means, I just don't know why you used it."

            "Because that's what you did."

            "Huh?"

            "Look," Wildwing sighed, reorganizing himself on the bed and looking his brother square in the eyes, "you came to my room because you were trying to find a place where you felt safe enough to go back to sleep. That's okay. It's probably what I would have done, too. You and I have always been the most comfortable with each other, right?"

            "Right."

            "So that's why you're _here._ Not because you're too afraid, because you proved you weren't when you handled Dryden the way you did, but because you've got your first practice with the team tomorrow and you want to be fresh, which was a smart thing to do."

            "Yeah, but what now?" he questioned, frowning slightly at the bedspread. "This room is simply not built for two, but I kinda…I don't want to go back to my room."

            "What makes you think it's not big enough?" Wildwing challenged mysteriously, reaching up. He pulled on a panel above his bed that folded out to become an upper bunk.

            "Rock!" Nosedive cheered, examining it to discover a mattress, pillow and blankets already set up. He narrowed his eyes penetratingly at his brother. "Have you been planning this?"

            A noncommittal shrug. "It's always good to be prepared."

            "Yeah, but…" The teen seemed hesitant to climb up, standing on the lower bunk with his arms folded on the edge of the upper. "What if I have a nightmare and roll off?"

            "Don't you get it? That's why I picked the lower bunk."

            "Huh?"

            Wildwing smiled warmly. "I'll catch you if you fall."

            "Hey!" Canard entered Wildwing's doorcode as quietly as he could and stepped into the room. "You're late, Wing! You were supposed to help me set up for practice fifteen minutes ago!" He flipped on the light. "What's your excuse?"

            Wildwing, rubbing his eyes, pointed up. Canard looked above his head at the newly added bunk.

            Nosedive sat there, blinking owlishly and yawning.

            Oh.

            Canard sighed. "Fine, then. He can help to make up for lost time. Just hurry up, all right?"

            Wildwing grunted an affirmative. 

            After a few moments, Nosedive slithered down from his bunk and dashed back to his own room.

            "You're good," Wildwing complimented softly seven minutes later when Nosedive showed up, hair dripping from a shower, completely dressed and grinning madly. Finally, he got to play hockey again. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready to go, too."

            "Okay," Nosedive agreed, flopping into a spinny chair and rubbing his hair roughly with his towel. "Just hurry up or Canard'll be back with a vengeance."

            "Yeah, yeah…"

            It took Wildwing nine and a half minutes to be completely ready. Nosedive twirled in his chair, waiting and letting his hair drip-dry all over the room. 

            "Let's go," the older brother whispered, to which the younger replied, "I've been waiting on _you."_

            Nosedive's first practice went astoundingly well. All the energy he'd been quelling over the past few months came roaring to the surface and he seemed to be _everywhere_ all at once, overflowing with contagious enthusiasm about everything from mundane drills to a mock game. His presence on the ice brought the flare that had been missing since he quit back in full force, and everyone was smiling. 

            "Youthful enthusiasm," Duke sighed to Mallory, grinning. "Do you remember the days?"

            "No," she assured, grinning in return. "I don't think I ever _had_ youthful enthusiasm. At least," she corrected as Nosedive zoomed past, "not _that_ much."

            "Sweetheart, no one else _ever _had _that_ much."

            "Don't I know it," Wildwing agreed as he skated up. "_Won_derful, isn't it?"

            "Yeah," they both agreed, "it is."

            "Hey!" Nosedive cheered, skating circles around Canard. "Look, it's Justin, Tiger, Thrash, and Mookie! Guys, check it out!" Zipping around the rink twice, he suddenly cut across the ice and towards the wall, leaping at the last moment to grab his now inline skates and compete a 540 before landing and continuing to skate. 

            The four applauded and whistled, cheering their approval. 

            "Nice," Justin complemented when Dive finally came over. "How long did it take you to get that down?"

            Nosedive grinned. "For_ever."_

            Wildwing skated over, still on the ice, and glared at his little brother. "Nosedive!" he chastened. "That was dumb! You _know_ your injuries aren't fully healed! Tanya's ready to kill you! Pull another stunt like that and we'll bench you from the first game of the season, get it?"

            "Aw, but _Wing…"_

            "_Get_ it?"

            A sigh. "Yeah, I got it."

            "Good."

            After his brother skated away, the teenager grinned at his friends again. "So anyway, what brings you four here?"

            "Just to see how you're holdin' up, dude," Thrash assured, grinning.

            "Like, for sure," Mookie agreed. "It's been pretty nuts at Captain Comics, because a lot of people quit for no reason when the boss decided give us a boa constrictor as a mascot, and that's why we haven't been down lately."

            "Hey, Dive," Thrash interrupted, looking inspired, "you wouldn't happen to need a part-time job handling comics and a snake, would you?"

            "Nah," the hockey player laughed, "not really. How about these two, though?"

            Tiger shrugged. "I'm jumping at the opportunity, but Justin's about to go pro. He doesn't need another job."

            "And we're still pulling double shifts," Mookie sighed.

            "Sucks to be you," Dive said compassionately. 

            "Not really," Thrash admitted, shrugging. "So what've you been up to, dude? Saving the world again?"

            "What, you didn't hear?" 

            Thrash blinked at Mookie as Justin blinked at Tiger. "Hear what?" they asked.

            Nosedive grinned widely. "We beat the bad guys!"

            "Seriously?" Tiger smiled. "Congrats, man!"

            "So…" Justin frowned. "Does this mean you'll be going back to your home world?"

            "Back to my home world? Huh, never heard it phrased like that. Yeah, I guess, as soon as Tanya gets the generator up and running. I can't _wait!_ Why do you ask?"

            The four humans traded gloomy looks. 

            "It's like E.T.," Thrash sighed.

            "Yeah," Mookie agreed.

            "Does anyone want to make sense here for a change?" 

            "Dive," Tiger explained, downcast, "you're our friend."

            "Yeah, and you're mine. So?"

            "_So._ God, you're dense."

            "What are you _talking_ about?" Dive demanded, frowning. 

            "We'll never see you again once you go," Justin said finally, slumped. "You'll zap home or whatever and that'll be the last we see of you."

            Nosedive blinked. "Dude, no," he corrected, "you've got this all wrong. The only way we'd ever not be able to see each other is if we're grounded."

            "Now who's not making sense," Tiger quipped.

            "Har har. What you guys don't understand is that Canard and the President—" 

            "Of the _United States__?"_

            "—yeah, him, and the head CIA guys had a nice long chat with some high-and-mightys from Puckworld. We're gonna set up an embassy _right here_ in the Pond. Since the seven of us are already used to Earth, we're gonna be ambassadors!"

            "Seriously? All right!"

            The five began a celebration that lasted all day, sweeping the rest of the ducks into their merrymaking. Eventually they all migrated to the kitchen, where Nosedive dug up sodas and junk food and a pie.

            Justin finally proposed a toast to the new Puckworldian embassy, which everyone cheered wholly. 

            "This reminds me of a quote from Casa Blanca," Nosedive said as they drank to the toast.

            "Which one?" Tiger laughed. 

            " 'Here's lookin' at you, kid'," Justin guessed.

            Nosedive shook his head. "No. More like," he raised his glass, " 'this looks like the beginning of a beautiful' happily ever after!"

            "Lame," the humans chorused, cuffing him gently. Nosedive laughed with them, especially since no one else got the bad joke. 

            Many hours later, Duke sighed contentedly, watching the kids flop on their stomachs in preparation for a movie. Wildwing hauled Nosedive back up when the teen winced and plopped him on the couch, which made the others snicker. 

            "No one throws a party like a teenager," Duke observed to Mallory.

            And he was right.

                                        The End 

AN: So! And that's it! What do you think? The movies date my story, because I'm talking about _Fellowship of the Ring,_ not _Return of the King_. Anyway! Hope you liked. Drop me a review! Later days.


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